


Dawn Approaching

by TheWanderingAvarian



Series: Towards the Light [6]
Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Angst, Bittersweet Ending, Gen, Hurt No Comfort, Immortality, Saving the World, Secrets, Suicidal Thoughts, Suicide, Time Travel, Tragedy, Worldbuilding
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-25
Updated: 2020-10-22
Packaged: 2021-03-04 07:08:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 25
Words: 106,212
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24909700
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheWanderingAvarian/pseuds/TheWanderingAvarian
Summary: Noctis has at last gathered all of the information he needs to escape the loop he's been trapped in, but the Gods have declared war on all humanity, and time is running out to gather enough power to save them. Meanwhile, his own power is beginning to grow steadily out of control...(Note: this is a direct sequel of the fic ‘Night Everlasting’ so the story probably won’t make much sense as a stand-alone read.)
Relationships: Gentiana & Noctis Lucis Caelum, Gladiolus Amicitia & Prompto Argentum & Noctis Lucis Caelum & Ignis Scientia
Series: Towards the Light [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1625239
Comments: 132
Kudos: 67





	1. Reconvening

It was dark. Still dark outside, the ground rushing by, invisible below them. Noctis stared out of the window, blind to the world beyond. It still hadn’t quite settled over him yet. That the Bahamut had declared war on him. That in a matter of weeks, he would try to make good on his promise to end humanity. That it was up to Noctis to stop him.

A sobering thought in itself. 

Back there on the ground, it hadn’t mattered to him so much that he’d be taking on the Gods—after all, he’d done it before. But now he had time to think over it, and the more he thought, the more he realised that he’d taken on a bigger task than he’d anticipated. He’d killed the Gods before—sure, but every time it had been with that all-consuming, terrifying rage that still hovered in the back of his mind, haunting him. He couldn’t do that again. Couldn’t...lose himself like he’d done before. For the others to see him like that...he couldn’t bear the thought of it. 

And there was something else troubling him too, but—

“Noctis?” 

Luna was standing by the door, her clothes still torn from fighting off the daemons in Gralea.

He gestured for her to come over. “What is it?”

She sat down next to him, trying her fingers into knots all the while. He wasn’t sure he’d ever seen Luna so obviously nervous before. Was it really so severe? Or was she just more comfortable with him now? It was hard to tell. 

“There was something I wanted to ask you,” she said, avoiding his eyes. 

“Right...?”

She swallowed. “Back on the hill—when you were unconscious, I think I mentioned something...strange happened.” 

She _had_ mentioned it. And all at once, Noctis was very much afraid of the question he knew would follow. 

“It was as though something possessed you. I know you said you didn’t know what it was, but Ardyn was there and I thought... Do you know what it was, Noctis?” 

Her eyes seemed to bore through his flesh down to his very soul. But he couldn’t lie to her. Not with everything else he was hiding. 

“Yes,” he said. “It was...something I don’t completely understand myself. But while I was speaking to Bahamut, he called it...Eos.” 

Luna’s eyes widened, her face growing pale. “Eos? As in the star?” 

“The highest power,” said Noctis. “What created the Six—or at least, that’s how I understand it.” 

That vision he’d seen through Eos’s eyes—it made his head ache just to think back to it. It was so alien he was surprised he could comprehend it at all—but there was something special connecting him to it, so perhaps that was why he understood? 

“I have never heard of such a being,” said Luna, her face beginning to return to its normal colour, “but you say Bahamut told you of it?” 

“Yeah. You remember I told you about having a part of Eos’s soul inside me? Turns out it has a consciousness too. I...probably should have realised that sooner, to be honest.” 

Luna smiled. “Don’t worry, I fear I should have made that connection too, but I’m afraid such a thing never occurred to me. It would make sense for the star to have a will of its own. None of the stories tell of the Gods creating Eos, you know—they have always controlled the elements, but the star itself is never mentioned. As though it has always been here.”

Noctis thought back to his vision—the Light... “Maybe it has. But I don’t know—I just know that when I was talking to Bahamut it decided to save me.”

“You _do_ have some of its soul.” 

Noctis laughed. “Yeah, I imagine it doesn’t want anything messing around with that.” 

“Perhaps you are doubly blessed by the Gods then?” said Luna, looking at him curiously. 

“Well I think that was always true. Chosen King and all that.” 

Luna smiled. “I suppose you’re right.” 

A low hiss sounded through the room, as the door in the corner slid open, revealing the bulky form of Gladio. He quickly spotted them. 

“Noct,” he said, “Lady Lunafreya.” He did a short bow. Gladio never bowed to _him,_ so he assumed that must be for Luna. “We arranged a meeting in the hangar. We figured we need to talk over our plans before we get to Tenebrae.”

Right. They did still have to think about that, didn’t they?

“Yes, of course,” said Luna. “We’ll be there right away.” 

Noctis would have objected to this—he felt he hadn’t had nearly enough time to get his head on straight yet, but Gladio’s face brooked no disagreement. 

“Sure,” said Noctis. “We’ll get there in a minute.” 

“D’you even know how to get to the hangar from here?” asked Gladio. 

Noctis felt heat rising to his cheeks. “I’m not completely useless y’know.”

“It _would_ be easier to follow him, Noctis,” said Luna, grinning.

“Fine, fine,” sighed Noctis, getting to his feet. “Lead the way.”

Gladio led them through the winding corridors of the airship, still as long and grey and dark as ever, before they finally arrived back in the hangar. Everyone else was sitting and standing around, clearly waiting for him and Luna to arrive. 

“Hi,” he said, his throat feeling oddly dry. “So I guess you want to talk about what happens next.” 

“That would be ideal, yes,” said Ignis, indicating for them to sit next to him.

Noctis warily took the seat. He’d known this discussion was coming, right from the moment they stepped on the ship. Not that that meant he felt any better about it.

“We’re going to see Ravus again, right?” asked Prompto, looking at Luna. 

“That would be my preference, yes,” she said. 

“We need to catch him up on everything that’s happened,” said Noctis. “And we need to warn Tenebrae what’s coming.” 

“Do we know how quickly the Gods intend to act?” asked Ignis.

Noctis sighed and shook his head. “Bahamut didn’t mention anything like a time-scale, but he’ll need to get the other Gods on his side if he wants to go through with this. Right now I have Titan, Ramuh and Leviathan bound to me. Bahamut probably has Shiva, but I imagine Ifrit’s still being controlled by Ardyn.” 

“Ardyn controls Ifrit?” asked Araena, raising an eyebrow. “That’s the first I’ve heard of that.” 

“He infected him with the Starscourge years ago,” said Noctis. “Or at least, so I’ve heard.” And seen. But that was a long time ago. “I don’t think he can spread the plague through him though—if he could I’m sure we’d have fallen to the darkness years ago.” 

“I should warn you, Noctis,” said Luna, “that my people may not amenable to what you have to say. They are already suffering in the darkness—they will not want to believe the Gods have turned against them too. It would be the final blow.” 

“I understand,” said Noctis. “They don’t need to know it’s the Gods, necessarily. They just need to know something big’s coming, and they have to fight it—blame it on the daemons if you like, it won’t matter when it comes down to it.”

Luna frowned, casting her eyes to the floor. “I feel ill-at-ease, thinking of deceiving them like this, but I understand what you mean. I will take the necessary measures to sway people to our cause, do not worry.”

“What are _your_ plans, Noctis?” asked Ignis. “Have you thought about what you want to do once you reach Tenebrae?” 

He had, but he still had no idea whether those thoughts were of any use to anyone. “We’ll need help to go after the Gods, and stop Bahamut from turning the rest against me.”

“Like, as in more Royal Arms?” asked Prompto. 

“As in an army,” said Noctis. 

The room went very quiet. 

“Make no mistake, we’re at war now. And worse, a war on two fronts: one against the daemons and Ardyn, and one against the Gods. I wasn’t kidding when I said this wasn’t going to be easy. We’re going to need a lot of people if we want to get back into Gralea without Bahamut destroying us. We’re going to need to ask for help.” 

“Where are you thinking of getting those people from?” asked Gladio. “There aren’t a lot of trained soldiers left on Eos now Niflheim’s fallen.”

“I know,” said Noctis. “But we’re going to need them if we want to do this. As many people as possible. If we need to train normal people to be soldiers then so be it—the cost will be much higher if we don’t.”

Gladio let out a hefty sigh. “I get it. But it’s going to be a hard sell either way.” 

“Guess I’m gonna have to brush up on my showmanship then.” 

He’d never been good at the whole ‘public figure’ thing; not even in any of his many previous lives. That was just something else he was going to have to get used to, it seemed.

“I’m curious,” said Aranea, “you say the Gods are gonna come after us and kill us, right?” 

“That’s the general picture,” said Noctis. 

“Well then why aren’t they just doing it? Why do you think we can stand up to them at all? I mean, don’t get me wrong, I know the forces managed to subdue Shiva who knows how long ago—my old commander could never stop bragging about it, but that was _one_ God—and now she’s back anyway. I don’t see why, if Bahamut really is all that, he couldn’t just get rid of all of us like _that_ —” She snapped her fingers as demonstration. “If you see what I mean?” 

Noctis nodded. “I get it. And I think that, once he gathers enough power, that’s what he’ll try to do. But before that he needs to convince all the other Gods—and that’s what we want to stop. Plus we’ll need a lot of people if we want to get back into Gralea. I’m willing to bet a lot more daemons are going to pop up now we’ve confronted Bahamut like that.”

“So that’s the plan then?” asked Gladio. “Ask the people of Tenebrae for help? What then? We can’t rely on them alone, that wouldn’t be fair.” 

“I know,” said Noctis. “We won’t just be asking them. I want to go back to Accordo as soon as possible too. We left it pretty much in the lurch before—hopefully we’ll be able to get there and convince anyone who hasn’t evacuated to go or join us.” 

Aranea made an awkward coughing sound. “Yeah, about that. According to my boys it’s getting a lot worse over there. They reckon it’ll only be a few days before it’s in pitch darkness too.” 

Noctis sighed and rested his head on his hands. It was just one thing after the other with him, wasn’t it? “Gonna have to move quick then.” 

“We aren’t too far away from Tenebrae now. We should be there within the next twelve hours. In the meantime, I suggest you guys get some sleep. I know there’s no way of telling, but it’s past midnight already.”

Ignis nodded. “I quite agree, we’ll want to be well-rested for the coming days.” 

“Right,” said Noctis, though he didn’t feel very tired at all. 

He made his way back to his room—actually managing to find it this time, and lay flat on his back, staring at the ceiling. There was still so much he had to do. Could he really build an army? And what about the others? He still hadn’t told them the truth about his past, about the hundreds of times he’d done this before. Was it foolishness to think that he’d actually be able to do it right this time? To escape from here, at long, long last? 

His mind held no answers, only questions, going around and around his head. Merciless and unceasing. 

But sleep did take him that night. Eventually.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, hello again! Since I have almost this entire thing written now, I think I can shift to updating more regularly, say, Monday and Thursday instead of every Thursday. If that sounds good, please let me know—or indeed if it sounds too fast! Thank you so much for reading, and I hope you enjoyed this first chapter!


	2. Arrival

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Previously: Noctis reveals his connection with Eos to Luna. The party agrees to set out to Tenebrae to meet Ravus and gather people to fight the inevitable conflict with the Gods.

Red light shone behind his eyelids. Once. Twice. A third time. An echoey, distorted—immensely _loud_ sound was blasting out from somewhere above him. He opened his eyes. 

A dark strip of sky was visible between the sheets of torn metal that had once made up the ceiling. 

They were crashing. 

They were _crashing!_

Noctis was on his feet in a second. The entire room shook beneath him, nearly knocking him off-balance as he tried to find his footing. Red light swept around the room over and over again from somewhere above him, making it look alien and unfamiliar in the crimson glow. He could barely hear himself think over the ear-splitting siren. 

Stumbling, he tried to make his way over to the door, the floor juddering beneath his feet. Then the floor disappeared entirely as the entire ship gave a horrible, shuddering jolt, sending him flying into the wall. Stinging pain exploded over his back. 

What the hell was going on? 

“—remain in your rooms!” 

A speaker crackled to life in the corner, only adding to the unbearable cacophony of sound. 

“I repeat, remain in your rooms! The hangar is no longer safe! Do not move until we have landed!” 

Noctis stumbled to his feet again. That voice was definitely Aranea, but he’d be damned if he was just going to sit around waiting to possibly die on impact. Where were the others? What if they were injured? 

Almost as if to justify his concerns, another shriek of metal sounded overhead as another huge strip of his ceiling was torn away. Were they being attacked by daemons? What kind of daemon could tear strips out of an airship? He needed to get out of here. 

His hand closed around the door handle, sweat making it hard to get a good grip—but it was closed tight. It could have been automatically locked when the emergency warnings went on; or something inside it had been broken by the ship crashing. Either way, he was going to have to use force. He pulled a polearm from the Armiger, ignoring the emptiness that bit at his insides as he did so, and jammed it into the thin space between the wall and the door. With a forceful tug, the door sprang open.

He stepped into the passage. Then, with another frightful screech, the ship gave a huge lurch—and he was flying forward, slamming into the wall with a loud _bang_. He was going to have a lot of bruises after this, that was for sure. Picking himself back up, he looked down the corridor. 

It was illuminated in that same red light that had been flashing around his room, casting the corridor in an ominous red glow. Why was it always red? Surely they had to know how disconcerting the colour was? Though, perhaps that was the point. To stop idiots like him going down dangerous corridors like this. He ignored the thought. He might be an idiot, but at least he was an idiot who wanted to keep his friends safe. Now there was just the issue of how to get to them. 

He knew they were on-board somewhere, but he quickly realised he didn't actually know where their rooms were. The only place he really knew how to get to from his own room was the hangar, which, if Aranea had been telling the truth, was not somewhere he wanted to be right now. 

He stumbled down the corridor. They had to be somewhere close by, otherwise Prompto wouldn't have been able to find him so easily last time they had been crashing. He pulled open a door on his left. No good, just storage. On his right—just brooms. Why did they need brooms on a ship? Cleaning? 

The thought was interrupted as the ship gave what must have been a forty-five-degree lurch, and all at once the floor fell out from under him, sending him sliding uncontrollably towards the end of the corridor. The door flew open as he collided with it, and it was only his impulse to grab something that stopped him from falling out of the ship altogether, as half of the room below him was completely missing. 

He was hanging desperately onto the doorframe, his legs dangling helplessly below him, and now he saw clearly where they were. 

They were flying low over a forest, just barely above the trees, and behind them was something huge, towering in the darkness. At first, Noctis thought it must be a skyscraper of some sort. But no—this was something far more sinister, something...alive. It turned to look at the ship as they went skimming over the trees, and for a moment Noctis glimpsed two huge red eyes glinting in its colossal head. 

There was another bang as the ship hit something, and it took all of Noctis’s strength to hold on to the door. They had to be descending to try and land. But they were hitting the trees now, and the ship was jostling wildly, and then—

Noctis was flying—no, falling—through the air, the entire room he’d been clinging to detaching from the ship entirely. It was near impossible to breathe as the branches buffeted him, and he was aware he should probably try and break free of the debris, lest some of it impale him as he landed. He let go of the doorway and willed it to go flying away from him, watching as it went spinning through the trees. Then he realised he’d been falling for an awfully long time. 

White-hot pain exploded through the back of his skull, and everything went black. 

* * *

A cool breeze swept past his face. Soft stems brushed his arms, and a sweet scent permeated the air. Pleasant warmth seemed to be emanating from above him. He breathed in deeply. He could still breathe. That was good. 

“Noctis?”

A voice on the wind.

“Noctis.”

Was it speaking to him?

“Noctis, it is high time you woke.” 

He opened one eye tentatively. A clear blue sky appeared above him, with equally blue flowers swaying around him. Wait—this wasn't the forest he’d landed in. It couldn't be. He pushed himself upright. 

He was lying in a field of soft blue flowers. 

He remembered this place. When he visited Tenebrae, so very long ago, this was the first place the royal family had taken him as soon as he was well enough to move. It was the famous field of sylleblossoms, kept by the Oracles for centuries. But why would he be here now? Unless…

“The King has awoken.” 

He recognised the voice from behind him and staggered to his feet, unable to register what he was hearing. It couldn't be her, could it? Everything had suggested she had died, and yet—there she was. 

Gentiana looked as regal as ever, her eyes firmly shut, her face set in a mysterious half-smile. There was no trace of the anxiety he’d witnessed in her before, or the determination just before her death. She seemed…peaceful. 

“What are you doing here?” he asked without thinking. He wasn't entirely sure where ‘here’ even was. 

“This is what might be called the home of Messengers,” said Gentiana, and though her face was unmoving her voice sounded more animated than usual. Almost amused. “A more apt question might be: what is the King doing here?” 

“I don't know,” said Noctis. “One minute I was falling, the next—I’m not dead am I?” He thought it unlikely, truthfully. He didn't think Bahamut would let him go so easily after all the tension of a few hours ago. Still, if Gentiana really was dead, the possibility was there…

“Death is not a concept which exists to beings such as the Astrals and their brethren. A group of which the King has now been acknowledged to be a part.” 

Yes... His confrontation with Bahamut. He’d seemed so angry... 

_“ **You** are **not** like them! They are as dust in the wind; you have wrought a worse fate upon this world than any mortal could ever dream of. No, **Noctis** —you are one of us.”_

“So I’m immortal now?” The thought was almost as horrifying as the endless cycles he’d had to live through before. 

“No,” said Gentiana, and a weight lifted from Noctis’s chest, “but the King is different to other mortals. His soul is now being preserved by the Draconian, for fear of what should transpire were it allowed into the afterlife.” 

It was true that if he were to die now it would ruin everything, but for Bahamut to go to such lengths... “Is he really keeping me alive?”

“The Hexatheon have an advantage the King does not. For them, all things occur in their proper time and place. Such cannot be said for most mortals.” 

“You mean, he’s waiting for something?” 

“The Draconian believes he does not yet possess the necessary power to send the King into the next world. That is something he will aim to amass over these coming months.” 

“By trying to win over the other Astrals,” Noctis said grimly, casting his mind back. 

“And more besides,” said Gentiana, her expression suddenly becoming serious. “The Draconian knows he does not have the sanction of the Highest Power. If he did, then he would have been able to end this an age ago. Now he seeks to drive Her from you, Chosen King, that he might finally exact the vengeance he longs for.” 

“How would he do that? Isn’t Eos...well, stronger than him?” 

Gentiana sighed. “In ages past this would indeed be true, but Her power to influence the world of mortals is all but spent. She spent millennia gathering power within the Stone that She might finally end the Darkness which plagues this star. And that power now resides...”

“In me,” said Noctis. “Right. Hence the whole ‘magic blowing me up’ thing.”

“It is true that the path the Draconian takes is not an easy one. Eos is not bound to listen to him, or indeed, any of Her children. And She has a great attachment to you.” 

“But he’s going to try anyway, isn’t he?”

Gentiana gave a sombre smile. “Indeed. Great chaos will result if he chooses this path.”

“Right. Just another reason I need to hurry up then.” 

“Do not be so keen to rush, King of Light. There is indeed an urgency which must not be ignored, but to abandon all else in pursuit of this quest would also be folly. Take care not to push beyond the limits of existence. Terrible consequences will surely result—consequences the Messenger believes he has already seen.” 

Sobering visions of blood and death danced before his eyes. “You mean I could lose it again.” 

“The King has suffered a great many trials; more still in having these locked away, then suddenly revealed. His mind is not so strong as it once was. He must be cautious.” 

He sighed deeply. “I understand.” 

For a moment Gentiana hesitated, as though thinking about something. “It will be hard for the King to face this burden alone.” 

Noctis frowned, a little taken aback. “Well I’ll still have the others with me. I’m not just gonna abandon them.”

“This is good.” 

She still seemed reluctant somehow, but before Noctis could say anything more, the atmosphere shifted. The wind had gone oddly cold, and in the distance he thought he saw storm clouds gathering overhead. 

“I’m going back now, aren't I?” 

Gentiana opened her eyes, and cast her gaze back towards the clouds. “The King always has a choice whether to remain or to return. Though remaining may prove painful, under these circumstances.” 

“Right,” he said. 

The clouds were gathering in darkness. 

“How do I reach you again, if I want to talk to you?” he asked, looking back at Gentiana. 

“The Messenger has become unbound from the world where mortals live, and the commands of her mistress,” she said. “Should the King wish to speak to her, he too shall have to abandon the world of the living, and find the Messenger in the space beyond.” 

Ah, cryptic. Noctis wondered whether it was part of Gentiana’s being that she had to answer all questions non-definitively. Probably. 

His vision was beginning to take on a distinctly fuzzy aspect, and he was sure his thoughts were beginning to get slower. His limbs were…very heavy. He needed to sit down. 

“I’ll see you later,” he managed to say, before slumping to the floor, the soft flowers cushion his fall slightly. 

It was so hard to think straight now…it would be easy to simply…fall asleep…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What's this, a Monday update? So I've decided to go through with the twice a week update schedule for now—if it gets to be too much I'll go back to once a week, but for now I think this will allow people to keep track of the story a little better (and let me publish it faster)! 
> 
> Thank you so much to everyone reading, I really appreciate it—and as ever, if you enjoyed the chapter, please let me know!


	3. The Fall of Tenebrae

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Previously: The ship carrying Noctis and his retinue crashes over Tenebrae, killing Noctis as he impacts with the ground. It turns out that Bahamut is reluctant to let him die until the time is right, however, and Noctis meets Gentiana in the World Between the Worlds, a space where the Messengers of the Gods usually reside. She warns him that Bahamut seeks to turn the other Gods against him, and great chaos will ensue if he succeeds.

Ignis’s head was spinning. Where were they? He remembered the ship—the warning siren blaring overhead, the crimson lights sweeping the long corridors—

Then nothing. 

Had they crashed? 

It was so dark... 

Had he died? 

He could still think, at least. Arms, legs, were they there too? His fingers curled, coming into contact with something wet and squishy. Soil? He was on the ground then. And probably not dead either, which was what he should probably be focusing on. 

Where was he? He tried to push himself up from where he lay flat on the ground, but even as he tried to lift his head, it impacted with a hard surface just above him. Damn it! He fell back to the ground, pain bursting in the front of his skull. Well that cleared something up—he was trapped beneath something. Their ship had crashed...he must be buried in the rubble. 

A rubber band seemed to constrict around his chest as the weight of this sank in. How long had he been unconscious? Did anyone know where he was? What if they wrote him off as dead... 

No—there was no use for such thoughts! He was still alive, and as long as he was alive, he had to be able to find a way out of this. He’d been almost able to sit upright before he hit his head. Maybe he could find a way to manoeuvre himself into a crouched position. 

He tried to pull his knees up in the darkness—sharp lines of pain lanced down his legs. That didn’t bode well. And he’d barely managed to get them half-raised before they came into contact with something hard and unyielding.

Panic was rising again. Even as he pushed against it, he realised whatever was trapping him was far heavier than he could ever hope to lift. He couldn’t die here—not _now_ , but there was no way out...

But then he heard something. Voices. Faint, but definitely there. And they were getting closer. 

“Hello?” he called, as loudly as he could. His voice was hoarse. “Is anybody there?” 

One of the voices grew clearer. “Hey, did you hear that?” 

“Hear what?” 

“Can anybody help me?” Ignis called out again.

“Shit, that’s Iggy!” said a voice that was definitely Gladio’s. “Iggy? Where are you?” he bellowed. 

“Just over here! Can you hear me?” 

“We’ve got you—are you under all that metal? Are you alright?” 

“Yes, I’m fine! But I’m trapped under here—I’m afraid I’ll need some assistance!” 

“Quick, Prompto, help me dig!” 

So that was the other voice. He ought to have guessed. 

He heard the sound of scrabbling from somewhere above him. It seemed he was buried under several layers then. He was lucky to be alive. To still have air... But enough of that. The others were here now. He’d be fine. 

Eventually, he heard great heaving sounds from outside, and then, finally, he could see again. Cold air hit his lungs as he breathed a deep sigh of relief, and was at last able to stagger upright. 

He quickly realised he’d sustained several nasty cuts to his limbs on the way down, but nothing appeared to be broken. Gladio and Prompto were both looking rather the worse for wear, with Gladio having a long gash along his arm, and Prompto had attained several small cuts to his face. 

“What happened?” he asked, finally being able to speak. “I take it we crashed.”

“Yeah,” chuckled Gladio. “We came down pretty hard. No one seems to be seriously hurt though. Once we get our hands on some potions we’ll be right as rain.”

Nobody _had_ gotten their hands on any potions though, Ignis noticed. And one person was conspicuously missing. “Where’s Noct?”

Both Prompto and Gladio’s faces grew grim.

“No one’s seen him,” said Prompto, quietly. “We were going to try and look for him just now.”

“There’s a chance he’s merely been knocked unconscious,” said Ignis, though even as he said it he didn’t believe it. Noct tended to get into much more serious trouble than that. The idea he was dead was unthinkable, but...

“How’s the search party going?” asked a voice from above. Aranea was standing above them, atop the huge pile of rubble that he’d just been buried under, staring down at them with beady eyes. “I see you’ve found Glasses. How’re you?” 

“Fine, thank you,” said Ignis. “I take it you’ve not seen Noct either?” 

“No,” said Aranea, “but the Princess seems to think he’s still alive. She wants us to get moving, by the way. And with this darkness I can’t say I blame her.” 

Ignis shook his head, even though it made his vision swim. “We can’t go anywhere until we’ve found Noct. He’s our best hope against the darkness.” 

A strange look came over Aranea’s face, and she glanced down at the ground with a frown. “I doubt you’ll find him here, to be honest.”

“What?” asked Prompto. “Why not?”

“Because his room detached completely in the crash. The ship may be mostly in pieces, but I know her well enough to tell what’s missing and what’s not. And his room just ain’t here. If he did survive, he landed a way away from us.” 

The panic Ignis had been trying to push down since he woke up squirmed to life in his throat, temporarily robbing him of all speech. Noctis couldn’t be dead, but to be left alone in this perpetual darkness...the daemons were a risk all their own. 

“We still have to go looking for him,” he said, just about managing to speak. “We can’t simply abandon him because we don’t know where he landed.”

Aranea gave a sharp sigh. “You just don’t get it, do you?” She raised her head to stare at them again. “Anyway, you aren’t going anywhere until you’ve spoken to the Princess. If you insist on leaving you at least ought to tell her first.”

Personally, Ignis thought they ought to try and find Noct as soon as possible, but he couldn’t deny the Commodore had a point. It would be highly rude of them to leave without at least speaking with the Lady Lunafreya first. And besides, now the thought about it, she may have some idea of where Noct was. They both had Astral powers, after all...

“Very well,” he said, “we shall speak to the Oracle.”

“Good,” said Aranea, smiling. “Follow me.” 

They set off at a brisk pace, striding through the ruins of the wrecked ship.

“Think he’s alright?” asked Gladio, as they walked. “I mean, that was a nasty crash.”

“I’m sure he’s managed to protect himself somehow,” said Ignis, fully aware that it was wishful thinking at its finest.

“I mean, we were all okay, weren’t we?” asked Prompto. “Who’s to say he isn’t fine too?”

The fact Noctis had likely fallen out of the ship before they landed could either be a positive or a negative, it was true. But it depended how close to the ground they were when he fell out. And the fact _none_ of his room was there was damning. 

“Let us see what the Oracle has to say,” he said. “Perhaps she has some information that might shed some light on the situation.” 

It wasn’t long before they caught sight of Lady Lunafreya. Her white clothes stood out in the pitch darkness of eternal night like a beacon. 

She turned to smile at them as they approached. “I’m happy to see you are all intact,” she said. 

Her grip was tight on the trident she held at her side, and Ignis noticed she was leaning on it quite heavily. Had she injured her leg too?

“The same to you, Lady Lunafreya,” said Gladio. “I hear you want us to leave.” 

She nodded. “As soon as possible. We are highly exposed here, and I will not be able to hold off the daemons for long on my own.” 

Ignis was about to ask why she assumed they wouldn’t help, before realising they _couldn’t._ Even as he tried to reach for the Armiger, he knew it was a futile task. No weapons. Not a good sign for the chances of Noct’s survival. No—he couldn’t think like that. He had to be alive. He _had_ to be.

“I see,” he said aloud. “I understand your reasoning, Lady Lunafreya, but Noctis—”

She held up a placating hand. “I know. You must be greatly worried for him. But I can assure you he is still alive.”

Ignis blinked. “You can?” 

“Yes.” She smiled again. “Though they are not the most transparent, at present, I can still feel the presence of the Gods nearby. If what Noctis said to us before is true, then if he had died then they would be in a state of much agitation. As it is, they are not.”

“I see,” said Ignis. 

Truthfully he still didn’t fully understand what had happened with the Gods. After Noct had confronted him in Altissia, all his convictions as to their role and purpose had been shaken to their core. He realised he didn’t know much about the Gods at all. But Noctis seemed to trust in Lady Lunafreya. And now...well, he didn’t really have much choice. 

“You are confident he will be able to find us?” 

“I am sure of it. Wherever we go, he will find us. He has strength enough for that.”

“Where _are_ we going, exactly?” asked Prompto.

“I can answer that,” said Aranea, sweeping in to stand next to Lady Lunafreya. “I was trying to guide us towards the Captial, near where we dropped off the High Commander—we can’t have landed too far away from it. I’m guessing that’s where you want to go?” She glanced down at Lunafreya.

“Indeed, I believe Ravus will already have made his way there, and if Noctis is to find us easily then that should be our destination of choice as well.” 

“I suppose we ought to get going then,” said Gladio. “Like you said, we’re not much good against daemons at the moment.”

“I shall do my best to guide you safely,” she said. “If you would follow my lead.” 

She began striding away from the wreckage of the ship, and there was no choice but to follow after her.

It seemed both Lady Lunafreya and the Commodore knew this forest well, as they did not show any sign of faltering as they walked through the trees. For the first part of their walk, Ignis speculated that this was possibly a secret route they’d developed when Lady Lunafreya was trapped in Tenebrae, but once they emerged into a large clearing it became obvious why they knew which way to go.

It was the first large break in the canopy above they’d come across, and for the first time since landing, Ignis had a clear view of the sky. Against the darkness that consumed all light that might have come from the sun, a different light was shining now. Like a colossal wave rippling through the sky it flickered; a pale, ethereal blue, drowning out some of that oppressive darkness that threatened to swallow them whole. He recognised that light. It was like that which came from havens—only a thousand times more massive in scale and height.

That was where they were heading.

They walked and walked, the sounds of daemons lurking in the darkness constantly stalking them, though none actually appeared through the trees. Perhaps Lady Lunafreya had more power than she thought? 

Time passed, but how much was impossible to say. The darkness never changed, nor did the composition of the forest. It was almost as though they were going in circles—the only indication they were going anywhere was the light in the sky growing steadily nearer.

And then, after what might have been hours of walking, they emerged from the forest, and their destination rose out of the darkness. 

Ahead of them, down in the valley below, was a massive encampment, sat atop what must have been the largest haven Ignis had ever seen. Underneath the many tents there were huge chasms of light that shimmered and moved, producing the great wave they saw in the sky above. 

But when he glanced over to Lady Lunafreya to make sure they had the location right, her expression was one of deep melancholy.

“Is something wrong?” he asked instinctively, for her face reminded him of Noct.

She blinked, then gave a short sigh. “Yes,” she said, then extended her arm to point to just beyond the tents. “That is the Capital. Or more accurately, _was_.”

In his amazement at the sight before him, Ignis hadn’t seen beyond the tents at all, but now as he followed Lady Lunafreya’s finger, he saw why her face was so pale, and her expression so grim. 

Beyond the encampment, rising through the trees all around, a city rose in the distance. But something was wrong. Even in the darkness, it was easy to see that the buildings had great chunks missing, and somewhere far in the distance, an orange light glowed, the last remains of what must have been a truly devastating fire. 

It hit him then, that the residents of this huge camp must be all that remained of the inhabitants of the city. And compared to its size, the camp suddenly looked very small.

“Damn it,” whispered Aranea, making Ignis jump. “There must have been an attack after we left. It better not have been those damned Resistance people.”

“I find it far more likely that daemons caused this,” said Luna, a conviction in her voice that told him she saw something in the ruins they did not. “But it is...troubling, in the extreme. If this is all that remains of the Capital then...we are in dire straits indeed.”

Though there was no wind in the cold stillness of eternal night, Ignis felt a chill down his back. 

In an attempt to banish the troubling thoughts circling his mind about the destruction that lay before him, he instead focused on a question that had been bothering him before. 

“Commodore,” he said, “this is not the first time you’ve mentioned a group known as the Resistance. Who are they?” 

Aranea gave a short, mirthless laugh. “I’ll tell you all about it on the way down. What I know of it anyway. I’m not Tenebraen so I don’t exactly know the whole story.” 

They began to descend the steep ridge leading down to the camp, and Aranea began with her tale. “So you guys already know that a few weeks ago the MTs all went berserk, right?” 

“Yeah,” said Prompto quietly. “They just started shooting at everyone—even inside the army camps.”

“Same thing happened everywhere,” said Aranea. “Lucis, Accordo, Tenebrae and Niflheim. Like some sort of kill switch went off or something. Anyway, it wasn’t so much of a problem over in Lucis and Accordo; in Lucis there weren’t that many to begin with, and in Accordo they managed to ship the MTs out pretty quick. Over here though...”

“There have been many Magitek troops in Tenebrae since the occupation twelve years ago,” said Lunafreya. “I was not here when it happened, but I can guess at the devastation that ensued.”

“Devastation is right,” sighed Aranea. “No one was expecting the MTs to attack like that. I hear a lot of people got killed in the first wave—a lot of Niflheim troops too. And that’s where the Resistance comes in. They’re an underground group that’s been in Tenebrae for a while. They started setting up after Lady Sylva was killed—people who didn’t believe the official line that it was an accident, or ex-military folks who decided it was too much for them.” 

“I’d never heard of such a group until quite recently,” said Lunafreya, quietly. “I thought no one knew what had really happened.”

Aranea’s expression grew pained. “Yeah, our people squashed any sign of rebellion pretty quickly back then, so they’ve basically been in hiding all this time. There were incidents of sabotage, I think, but I don’t know any of the details. I was mostly stationed in Niflheim, and they like to keep that sort of info on a need-to-know basis. They never went away completely though—and when the Generals stationed in Tenebrae lost control, they saw their chance.

“From what I’ve heard, those of us who weren’t killed in the initial attack or ran away back to Niflheim joined with the Reistance to get rid of the MTs, and they’ve been in an alliance ever since. But it hasn’t exactly been smooth rolling. When I started bringing people out of Niflheim across the border, those Resistance people were prepared to throw them right back into the dark if it meant less Nifs about. Not sure I can blame them, but it was rough trying to make sure everyone was safe once they landed.”

“So _that’s_ what you were doing before you came to pick us up,” said Gladio, stumbling down to the edge of the ridge. They were almost near the bottom now. 

“Yep. It wasn’t fun to hear that Accordo was next for the chopping block when Ravus phoned me up, lemme tell you. I figured people would be alright over there, what with all their trade and stuff. But I suppose trade can’t really prepare you for a daemon attack.”

“No,” said Ignis, grimly. “It can’t.”

A kind of quiet melancholy had settled over the group with all that information out, and Ignis was at a loss for words. He found himself wondering if this was how Noct had felt from the very beginning, knowing what was coming for the world, but unable to say it. Perhaps his long silence made a little more sense. 

Finally, they reached the edge of the encampment, and as they approached, two people watching the darkness rose to their feet. They were wearing different uniforms, but both appeared to be military of some sort. 

“Halt,” said a tall, severe-looking woman with sharp eyes and dark skin. “Declare yourselves.” 

But the other woman quickly moved forward to stop her companion. “Wait—look at them Sophos: this is the Oracle!”

Sophos’s eyes widened as her gaze fell on Lady Lunafreya. Then she gave a sweeping bow. “Your Majesty, I apologise—”

“No harm done,” said Lunafreya, stepping onto the raised pedestal of the haven. “You were not to know.”

“It is fortunate indeed to see you are still alive and well,” said the other woman, stepping forward. “And who are these others with you?”

“This is Commodore Aranea Highwind, formerly of the Niflheim military,” said Lunafreya, gesturing to Aranea, “and these three are the retainers of King Noctis of Lucis, though his whereabouts are currently unknown.”

“I see,” said the other woman, looking at them with something like admiration. It was strange to hear Noct referred to as King. “Well we can certainly let you through.”

“Would you like to be guided to Lord Ravus?” asked Sophos, stepping aside to allow them all to step within the haven’s protection. 

“That would be my preference, yes,” said Lunafreya, and Sophos nodded.

“If you’ll follow me.” 

As the went through the camp, Ignis noticed Prompto looking around at all the tents and people with wide eyes, his fingers clearly itching to go for his camera. Gladio just kept his eyes on the women walking ahead. 

For all the strangeness of the settlement, Ignis found his thoughts kept straying back to Noct. What was he doing right now? Was he alright? Was is possible Lady Lunafreya was wrong about his condition? His mind raced with hypotheticals, and it was hard to concentrate on the world around him as his thoughts plagued him. 

It was only a sharp, and now painfully familiar voice that finally drew his attention away from them. 

“Ah, I see you are all alright,” said Ravus, who looked more exhausted than Ignis had ever seen him before, including when they’d fought side-by-side in Altissia. His clothes were bedraggled, and his hair askew, and all in all he had the look of a man who’d just walked out a burning building. 

“I see _you_ are not,” said Luna, her voice tinged with shock. “What happened, Ravus?” 

Ravus gave a melancholy sigh. “ _Much_ has happened since I left you. But that is by the by—I see that the King is no longer with you. What happened to him?” 

Luna cast her eyes to the ground. “I fear we too have much to explain to you, Ravus, but as for Noctis; we do not know where he is.”

“You lost him?” asked Ravus, disgusted. 

“Nothing of the kind!” snapped Luna. 

Aranea quickly stepped between them, clearly sensing an argument about to ensue. “Hey now, no need to get heated.”

Ignis stepped forward, hoping his words might somehow calm things down. “I’m afraid that on our return the airship carrying us crashed rather dramatically. We could not find Noctis in the rubble, and according to Lady Lunafreya, he is still alive but in an unknown location.” 

Unfortunately, this did not seem to calm Ravus down. He whirled around to face Aranea. “You crashed the ship?” 

“Not on purpose, jeez,” said Aranea, raising her arms. 

“And now the last hope of lifting this accursed darkness is lost somewhere in the woods?” Ravus began pacing. “He won’t last twelve hours. There’s a Diamond Weapon somewhere in all that chaos—if it finds him—”

“It won’t,” said Lunafreya, quickly. “Calm yourself, Ravus, the Gods would not see him snuffed out so easily. They have plans with him yet in this world. Ardyn is still alive.” 

Ravus gave a heavy sigh, then slumped into a nearby chair and buried his face in his hands. “More good news. Brilliant.” 

Ignis glanced over at Gladio and Prompto, who, like him, seemed reluctant to speak. Lunafreya sighed and sat down next to Ravus, while Aranea just watched them carefully, waiting to see what happened. 

“What happened while we were away, Ravus?” asked Lunafreya, trying to get him to meet her eyes. He sighed and lifted his head again, his eyes raised towards the sky. 

“A lot,” he said. “More than I would have believed possible. Do you know what things were like before I arrived? The Resistance and the Niflheim forces?”

Lunafreya frowned. “Indeed. No thanks to you.”

Ravus rolled his eyes. “I did not want to trouble you with such matters while you were intent on accompanying the King to Gralea. But I am glad you know now. It will make explaining this easier.

“When I got here things were already very tense. From what I could tell, the leader of the Resistance, Julia Lightwood, and the highest-ranking General of Niflheim, Quintus Septum, had agreed to a ceasefire while they dealt with the threat of the MTs. All was not well, however. You see, in weeks prior, our friend Commodore Highwind had been assisting refugees in escaping from Niflheim, which by that time had fallen completely to the darkness. The Resistance did not appreciate having more Niflheimians about, not after they’d gone to such lengths to attempt to drive them out entirely, so these refugees had to rely on the remaining military personnel to keep them safe from agitated Tenebraeans. As you can imagine, there was conflict between the native-born people of Tenebrae and the immigrants from Niflheim.”

“It has always been so,” said Luna, with a frown. 

“Yes,” said Ravus, “but now it is far worse. Fortunately, Lightwood and Septum welcomed me with open arms when I arrived. It seemed Niflheim had reversed its position on denying us our heritage, and wanted me to take command of its forces.”

Ravus was quiet for a moment. Ignis could guess why. The smouldering ruins of the Capital in the distance told a tale all their own. 

“Of course, the problem was that the sun had stopped rising entirely. And because of that, we had had a sudden influx of daemons—and worse, the Starscourge was spreading among the people.”

“I’m sorry, Ravus,” said Lunafreya, her eyes turned towards the ground. “If I’d have known—” 

“There was no way for you to know.” He stared off into the distance, as if at some distant star. “I don’t blame you for what happened.”

“The daemons attacked?” asked Aranea. 

“Yes.” The camp was unnaturally still. “One moment everything was fine, the next… They came so fast. We had no choice but to run, to get as many people as we could and flee. If any of you saw the devastation in Insomnia in the wake of our attack,” his eyes briefly met Ignis’s, then he quickly looked away, “then it was just like that. The buildings fell. Great fires raged across the city from the explosions. The people you see here are the sole survivors of that attack. All that remains of the Capital.”

Ignis could taste bile in his throat. If Ravus was telling the truth, then this camp could only consist of about a quarter of the original population of the city. Maybe less. The smoke rising from the ruins of the Capital merged with the light of the haven as it rose into the sky, and that dim orange glow from far away seemed more menacing somehow. So many lives lost. Such a waste. 

“Ravus, I…” Lunafreya paused, seeming unable to go on with whatever it was she wanted to say. Ignis knew the feeling. “…I should have been here.”

Ravus shook his head, though it was easy to tell he was fighting back tears. “No. Your task was equally as important. And there was nothing you could have done—that any of us could have done. The daemons were unstoppable. It just pains me that you had to see us in such a state.”

“These leaders you mentioned,” said Gladio, who mercifully seemed to have pulled himself together quickly enough to speak, “where are they now? Did they survive?” 

“In a manner of speaking,” sighed Ravus. “Quintus Septum, the General I mentioned, yet lives, and escaped with the rest of us when we fled the Manor. Julia Lightwood, however, is presumed dead in light of the chaos. Her second-in-command, Illya Varnus has taken the reins, but as you can imagine, it has been difficult convincing the two to cooperate. Illya is young, and she has taken the death of her Commander very hard.”

“What are your plans from here?” 

Ravus glanced back at the burning remains of the city. “Ideally, we’d take back the Capital. The Haven provides a certain amount of safety, but supplies are another matter. We can’t last long out here.”

“So you need more people?” Ignis asked tentatively. 

Ravus turned in his direction and fixed him with a stare. “What we need is someone with the power to lift the darkness, and deal with the daemons more easily than what little military forces we have left in the camp.”

Ignis already knew who he was speaking of, and suddenly the urgency leapt to the front of his mind once again. 

“It pains me to say it, but what we need is Noctis.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ah, now we're delving into the Politics of Tenebrae, and it turns out not all has been well in Luna and Ravus's absence—not to mention the fact that Ardyn's apparently been multitasking. Noct's going to have a job on his hands once he gets back!
> 
> Thank you to everyone still reading, I hope you enjoyed the chapter, and if so, please let me know!


	4. Lost in the Woods

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Previously: Following the crash, Ignis, Prompto, Gladio, Luna and Aranea make their way towards the Capital of Tenebrae, only to find it has been devastated by a massive daemon attack. Upon meeting with Ravus, he explains the complex situation in the main camp, and claims Noctis is their last hope to reclaim the city.

Pain popped in flashes around his forehead as he tried to force his eyes open. He couldn’t see anything outside. Was he blind? Or was it just dark still? He managed to get one eye open, but all he could see was flashes of bright light before it jammed itself shut again. He must have hit his head on the landing—couldn't that cause brain damage or something? Well, it wasn't like he could do anything about it now. He elected to sit with his eyes closed until the pain reduced enough that he’d be able to see without wanting to scream. 

It was quite peaceful sitting there in the darkness. Or it would be if not for the pain all over his body. He couldn't be actually dying, if what Gentiana said was true, but damn if it didn't feel like it. 

After about five minutes of sitting—though it felt more like an hour—the pain receded enough that he could open his eyes properly. 

It was still dark out. As his eyes adjusted, he saw he was in a forest, the densely packed boughs preventing him from seeing too much further into the wood. An enormous canopy stretched overhead, obscuring the sky almost entirely from view, though patches made it through here and there, allowing him to see through to the darkness high above. There were no stars, and no light. Just clouds of still and silent ash, choking out all sign of the sun. 

Noctis himself was lying but beneath the bough of a massive tree, small ferns growing all around him. He was sure this scenario felt oddly familiar. His heart jerked. His hand—his right hand—the infection under his skin—the smell of the forest. His breaths came quick and shaky.

He rolled over and forced himself upright. He couldn't get caught up in memories right now. He had to keep moving—keep focused. He was somewhere in Tenebrae. What had they wanted to do there?

Meet with Ravus, that was it. Try to gather an army. That would probably be slightly harder. But how to find him—that was the question. Tenebrae was covered in forests; he could be miles away from any kind of civilisation, and even when he found civilisation, he had no idea where to find Ravus. Ideally he’d be able to find his friends along the way too, but he wasn't getting his hopes up. The fact he’d fallen out of the ship before it actually crashed made him pessimistic about how close he was to the vessel.

No, it was up to him now. 

He looked around. There were no signs of life whatsoever. No animals, not even any daemons, which was something of a relief. But that sound—a kind of distant bubbling, gurgling sound... Could it be a river? He tried to pinpoint where it was coming from. 

There, in front of him, deeper into the trees. 

The branches cracked beneath his feet as he got closer to the sound. Tension laced his back, and he found himself listening for the small sounds, for any sign that the daemons might be about to appear and pounce on him. 

Finally, the river emerged in front of him. It wasn’t wide, or deep—barely more than a stream really, but if there was one thing and one thing alone that had stuck with him from survival training, it was that where water was, people were. All he had to do was follow the river.

It wasn’t always smooth going as he stepped and stumbled alongside the uneven bank. Sometimes there would be a steep drop, and he’d have to warp to the bottom, hitting the ground with a thud that hurt his feet. Sometimes the slick leaves alongside the bank would make the terrain slippery and uneven. On a few occasions he _did_ slip and almost ended up head-first in the water. Now that would be an ignoble way to end all this. 

And eventually, as they always did to people foolish enough to wander around at night, the daemons found him. He could fight them easily enough. He might be weaker than usual, but he was still strong compared to the goblins and ice-bombs that haunted the forest at night. No, the thing he was really worried about was the daemon that had crashed their ship. He’d only seen the vaguest outline of it in the darkness, but whatever it was, he’d never seen the likes of it before. It was immense, larger than a hundred ships. And if he ran into that...he wouldn’t stand a chance. 

After several hours, when Noctis was beginning to worry that he’d die of exhaustion before any daemons, he saw something that made his heart leap. There, just beyond the trees, something was glinting. Nothing in the forest would glint like that. It had to be man-made—it had to be a sign he was getting closer. He ran towards it, desperate for some sign this hadn’t all been for nothing, and almost lost his footing as the rock fell away just ahead of him; a sheer cliff face so tall he couldn’t see clearly to the bottom. The river fell into a waterfall.

But there, just beyond, rose a huge building, sparkling in what little light there was left. He’d made it. There had to be people there. 

He peered down over the edge of the cliff. Jumping down there was going to be dangerous no matter what. Given he was at the edge of a waterfall, he found it likely he was above a lake. He didn’t really want to warp into a lake. But given the cliff extended to a point, and this was the closest he was going to get to the building ahead of him, he didn’t really have a choice. 

He pulled a sword from his Armiger and half-heartedly tossed it over the edge of the cliff. After waiting about five seconds, which was how long it would probably take to reach the bottom, he let himself shift and warp through space, his hand closing around the hilt. 

He was underwater. Fabulous. 

The sword was dragging him downwards, so he thrust it back into the Armiger and swam upwards with all his strength. The surface looked awfully far away. The water seemed to be pressing in on him from all sides. His vision was beginning to fade, spots of black creeping in on all sides. No—he only had to go a little further!

His hands breached the surface, cold air stinging as he pushed himself all the way up. He took deep gasping breaths. Air. Thank goodness. He shook his head trying to dislodge some of the wetness. The huge building rose out of the forest ahead of him. He had almost made it. 

He began swimming to the shore with vigour. The water chilled him all the way through, but he ignored it. This was no time to be worrying about the cold. 

He pulled himself shakily onto the bank. Only a little bit further now. 

It felt like hours until he finally saw a break in the trees, beyond which lay the building he had seen at the top of the cliff. He stumbled out into the clearing, panting from the effort. He longed to just collapse onto the ground, to take a moment to breathe, but he knew he couldn’t, not quite yet. A metallic doorway lay just ahead of him. It was cold to the touch as Noctis practically fell against it. His hand was shaking so badly he could scarcely hold the doorknob. A quick turn of the knob and the door swung open.

The room inside was dark. 

He’d made a terrible mistake. There were no people here, and if this room was in darkness then—

Something came leaping at him from within, an inhuman shriek splitting his eardrums as it collided with his torso. All the air was knocked out of his lungs as he went flying backwards, and all at once he was gasping for breath, sprawled on the floor. An Ahriman screeched above him, about to dive towards his face with its long spindly claws. Noctis reached for his blade instinctively, and slashed at it as it flew at him, pushing himself up onto his elbow. 

The sword caught one of its legs, and it toppled over as it came rushing towards him, making yet more terrible sounds. He had to end this quickly. If it kept screeching it would summon more daemons, and that was the last thing he needed. 

He leapt towards the creature, blood rushing in his ears, and pulled his sword back, striking it hard on its bulbous body. The sword cut deep. It tried to slash at him with its claws, but Noctis had found his footing again, and dodged out of the way before it could reach him. A choking tension filled his mouth as he forced the magic out, but he ignored it. He had to. 

The Ahriman was limping now, its wings damaged, its back bleeding with horrible black ichor. Only a few more blows, and he’d be able to finish it off. He flung his sword towards it, getting ready to warp, but just as he was about to strike the finishing blow—

_BANG!_

The creature fell into dust before his eyes. 

He looked for the attacker, and quickly caught sight of a rather elderly man approaching him from the edge of the woods. There was a gun clenched tightly in his hand. 

“Don’t worry there, lad,” he said as he approached, holstering the gun at his side. “I’m not here to harm you. Now what was that fancy trick I saw you doing just now? I don’t think I’ve ever seen anything like it!”

Noctis made sure his sword was no longer visible, just in case this man was secretly out for his blood. “Well that was, um…”

The old man chuckled, the wrinkles around his eyes crinkling as he did. “Ah, I’m only joking with you laddie, I know what that was. I may be old, but I know magic when I see it.” 

Some of the tension left his shoulders. “Right. And you are…?”

The man’s eyes widened. “Haven’t I introduced myself? I must seem terribly rude! I go by Joseph. Joseph Murphy, if it means anything to you. And what’s your name, if I might ask?”

Noctis gave a slight smile. “Well if you know I can do magic, you’ve probably already guessed. But I’m Noctis.”

Joseph grinned, then gave a slight bow. “An honour to meet you, Your Majesty. Might I ask what you’re doing all the way out here in the woods? Did you get lost?” 

Noctis frowned as the memory came back to him. “No, our ship crashed, and I woke up in the woods alone. I’ve been looking for any sign of people for ages now. Do you know where everyone is?”

“Aye, I can take you to the camp. Your ship crashed, you say? Were there others with you?”

“Yes.” He’d been avoiding thinking about them. He’d survived the crash because he’d had a magical intervention. But for them…he hoped they’d made it out alright. “I haven’t seen them. I fell out of the ship before it reached the ground so I don’t know where they landed or anything. I just hope they’ve made it to the Capital too.” 

Joseph nodded soberly. “If they’re alright, one of our scouts will find them, don’t you worry about that. Though…I’m afraid the Capital isn’t what it once was. If you’ll follow me, I’ll take you to where everyone else is.”

Noctis desperately wanted to ask what had happened to the Capital that made Joseph speak of it with such sadness in his voice, but it was obvious he didn’t want to talk about it. Perhaps he could coax him into it along the way…

* * *

Noctis wasn’t sure how long they’d been walking now. Joseph had led him through the woods towards a path decorated with hundreds of lights—fairy lights and headlights and torches, nothing professional, just whatever the citizens of Tenebrae could find to ward off the darkness. Although none of them were especially bright, their combined presence seemed to work, because they didn’t see any daemons on the way back. 

“So you’re Tenebraean, right?” said Noctis, feeling he needed to break the silence sooner or later. 

“Aye,” said Joseph. “Wouldn’t be here if I wasn’t, would I?”

“No, I suppose not.”

Silence again. This time Joseph was the one to speak.

“What’s eating at you, laddie?”

Noctis sighed. “It’s just…I’m worried about my friends. I don’t really know what happened to them after I fell out of the ship, so…”

Joseph nodded, and smiled at him understandingly. “I understand,” he said. “It’s been hard times for all of us. I’m sure those friends of yours will turn up sooner or later.”

He thought of them, mangled in the wreckage of the ship. What if they really were dead? What would he do then? “I hope you’re right.” 

They walked a bit further in silence again, the earth crunching beneath their feet as they walked onwards, through the glistening tunnel of artificial lights. 

“You said the Capital was…different, when you found me,” said Noctis, quietly, hoping he didn’t offend Joseph by bringing it up. 

The old man gave a deep sigh, and seemed to stoop even lower than before as they kept walking. “Yes. It is.”

“What happened? If you don’t mind me asking.”

Joseph raised his head to stare at the path extending out ahead of him. His eyes glistened in the light from the trees. “You’ll see soon enough. We’re not far from the camp now.”

Camp. Joseph had used the phrase several times. Noctis had assumed he’d been referring to a military camp, but now he wasn’t so sure. 

And then the trees finally broke ahead of them, the lights became strewn along the floor instead of along the branches. But they needn’t have used them, because there was light enough already. 

To his right, the towering city skyscrapers erupted out of the ground, and all of them were lit from within with a dull orange glow. Fire ate away at their insides, leaving charred shells of what were once proud buildings. Smoke billowed out from the tops, floating away into the sky, joining the ash high above, and casting the valley in a flickering, crimson light. 

Nausea rose in Noctis’s stomach. For he had finally remembered why, in that vast roiling mass of memories that made up his past, he had been determined to avoid Tenebrae. 

* * *

“Get out of here!” he yelled, pushing one man forward, away from the rubble falling behind them. 

_BOOM!_

Another explosion, closer this time, as the colossal form of the Diamond Weapon towered above them, the red stone in the centre of its chest glowing an eerie red against the smoke billowing towards the pitch-black sky. The air was so thick with ash and smoke it was hard to breathe. Noctis could barely even hear himself think amidst the screams. 

More people ran past him, and he saw that the top of the building above him was crumbling, threatening to collapse at any second. 

“Stay away from here!” he yelled, running towards them and pointing to it, and they quickly ran away, the earth shaking as the bits of concrete and glass hit the floor. 

This whole section of the Capital was going to crumble sooner or later. More bombs shot out of the Diamond Weapon, creating orange streaks in the sky. 

It wasn’t supposed to be like this. He thought by getting to Tenebrae and avoiding Gralea he might be able to save them. But he was too late for that now. 

Darkness had fallen. The daemons had come. 

Suddenly, his foot caught on something lying in the road, and he came tumbling towards the ground, his palms scraping along the pavement as he landed roughly on the floor. He quickly moved to untangle himself, only to come face to face with wide, unseeing eyes. The lifeless face of a young woman stared at him from the ground, blood trickling from her mouth. She’d been hit in the back of the head by some concrete. He had to move. 

Sickness rising in his chest, he scrambled upright, forcing himself to keep moving. He hoped Luna and Ravus would somehow be able to forgive him. 

* * *

“Young man?” Joseph’s wizened old face was staring into his, his bushy eyebrows drawn together in concern. “Is everything alright?”

“Gah! Yeah, yeah, everything’s fine,” said Noctis, flinching away from him. “Just got lost in thought for a moment. Let’s keep going.”

He had to keep going. To avoid thinking about _that_ again. 

Joseph nodded, but he still looked concerned. They began walking in silence along the path laid by the lights, but the glow cast by the flickering flames shed a grim light over everything. 

He’d been there, during the attack. The same attack that must have happened this time. How could he have forgotten? 

It had been one of the early cycles, when he was convinced if he just did things differently enough, then he might one day be freed. He’d gone to Tenebrae early, rather than straight on to Gralea. Met the two forces in power there with Luna: the Resistance, and the highest-ranking General still left of the Niflheim forces. It had been hard, he remembered. The two of them hated each other with a passion, and even Luna didn’t seem to know how to handle them. He’d stayed there with her, convinced that sooner or later Ardyn would arrive. Darkness fell. There had been no sign of him. And then…then it had begun. 

In the aftermath, he’d heard people compare it to the fall of Insomnia. If it was truly like that then he wasn’t surprised Iris had nightmares. He’d never been back after that. Too afraid the same thing might happen. That he might lure them all to their doom. 

“It was very fast,” said Joseph, drawing him back into the real world. 

“Right.” 

“Not a lot of people managed to get out in time,” he said, his voice low and quiet. “So when you see the camp… Well. Don’t expect the entire city to be there.”

If it was anything like last time, there’d be hardly anyone at all. Had Ravus made it through this? If they’d managed to lose him while Noctis was busy confronting Bahamut…

No. No point wondering about hypotheticals. He’d know once he got there. Wait, maybe…

“Joseph,” he said, and the old man turned to look at him. “Do you know if…um, did Ravus make it here? Was he caught in the attack?”

Joseph gave a grim smile. “Oh, he made it here alright. Caused quite the fuss among the young people; even managed to quieten down the Resistance for a while, which is no small thing given he used to be part of the military. He made it out of the attack. Managed to find us the things we needed to set up on the Haven. I can take you to him, if you want.”

“That would be great, thanks.”

At least Ravus was okay. That was one thing off his mind.

Finally, they came around the edge of the crumbling remains of the Capital, and before them lay the camp that Joseph had been talking about. It was bigger than he’d expected—he couldn’t even see the end of where the tents were laid out—but it wasn’t big enough. There couldn’t be more than half the population of the city here. The attack must have been devastating. 

At least the Haven was alright—and it deserved its designation with the capital H, as it was the largest one he’d ever laid eyes on, and it was shining with brilliant light, almost enough to make him forget the fires raging behind him. He stepped onto it with a wary tread, half-afraid it would reject him for the darkness he knew was running through his bones. 

“Is everyone here?” he asked, as Joseph sidled up to him. 

“Not everyone,” said Joseph, beginning to guide him through the many brightly coloured tents. “A few volunteers like myself offered to go scouting for people making their way here from the counties—some of them are still out there. And of course, there are the folks patrolling the edges of the valley, making sure no daemons get through. We’re stretched thin though, I’m sorry to say. A lot of folks needed medical attention after the attack. People able to work like me are in short supply.”

“I’ll do whatever I can to help while I’m here,” said Noctis. It was the least he could do, not being here for the attack. 

Joseph chuckled. “I’m sure you will. We appreciate the help, in any case.” 

Noctis noticed that as they walked the tents were getting thinner, and more and more people who looked like army personnel were peering at him as they walked. 

Eventually they emerged into a kind of clearing, and in front of them stood the largest tent Noctis had seen yet. It was mostly white, but had black stripes running up the sides and flowing off in ribbons from the posts surrounding it. Niflheim’s colours. Noctis wondered if there had been any attempts to tear it down. But he didn’t have long to think about it, because the next moment Joseph was bundling him inside, and Noctis was suddenly face-to-face with Ravus. 

He looked a little more battered than when Noctis had last seen him. His face was set in a grim scowl, and he had a large bruise on his cheek. His clothes too seemed tattered and torn by the struggle of war. When he realised who he was looking at though, his eyes grew wide, and his face pale. 

“Noctis?” he asked. “Is it truly you?”

“Well I’m not Ardyn, if that’s what you’re asking,” said Noctis, already mildly irritated. That was probably a good thing though. He liked knowing where he was at with Ravus, and that was usually at least a little bit annoyed.

Ravus gave a rare smile, before nodding to Joseph. “Thank you for bringing him here, Mr Murphy. I appreciate it.”

“It was nothing,” said Joseph, tipping his cap at them before disappearing outside, leaving him alone with Ravus. 

“You look terrible,” said Noctis, the words slipping out before he could stop them. 

Ravus raised an eyebrow. “I could say much the same of you. Why are you all wet?” 

Right. He’d forgotten about that. “I, um, fell,” he said, heat rising to his cheeks. “Into a lake. It isn’t important.” 

“Is that where you landed? Your companions were telling me you detached from the airship before they were able to find you.” 

“Not exactly,” sighed Noctis. “I’m fine though, thanks for asking.” 

“That much is obvious by your demeanour.” 

Noctis didn’t really know what to say to that, so he didn’t. He had to say something though, so he said the other thing that had been plaguing his mind since he stepped out of the forest. 

“I’m sorry. I didn’t know about...any of this. I should have been here.”

Ravus pursed his lips, clearly thinking about what to say. Then he gave a heavy sigh, and spoke. “What could you have done? It makes no difference now. The Capital has fallen, and my people are sheltering desperately here until we can take it back. If you want to help, there’s surely only one option, is that not so?” 

Noctis blinked in surprise. Was Ravus really suggesting what he thought he was? “You...want me to help?”

“I’d consider it your duty, if you claim to genuinely care about the fate of Tenebrae.”

“I do!” Noctis said quickly—perhaps too quickly. “I mean, I want to help. I just...wasn’t sure you’d let me, after everything.” 

A smile pulled at Ravus’s mouth, but his eyes were sad. “I’m afraid I’m left with little other choice, given the circumstances. And I would not be so foolish as to throw your help away for the sake of a petty grudge.”

“I... Thank you. I appreciate you giving me a chance.” 

“Do you know what it is we’re trying to do?” asked Ravus, now looking at him intently. “How much did Joseph tell you on the way over?” 

“Not a lot, to be honest. Just that the attack happened, and you don’t have many people left to try and take back the city. He seemed...sad.” 

Ravus sighed. “He is. Like many others, he lost people in the attack. The only thing we can do now is make sure their deaths were not in vain, and take back the city as soon as possible. He was right about our numbers though. We were decimated by the attack, and we need people here to fend off the daemons and look after the survivors as well. To be perfectly honest, I was waiting for you and Lunafreya to return, as I believe with your daemon-combating powers, you may be the only ones capable of this.”

Noctis was about to reply to agree to this notion, but before he could, the flap of the tent opened once more, and two people stepped inside. 

Noctis recognised them instantly. The man—heavily built and with an air of one always on the verge of criticising you, was Quintus Septum, the de facto leader of the remaining Niflheim forces. The woman, who couldn’t be much older than Ravus, was slight, and had a permanent scowl on her face. Her he knew only by acquaintance—Illya Varnus, second in command to Julia Lightwood, who was conspicuously absent. Noctis could guess what had happened to her though. 

Both of them immediately stared at him as they entered, probably wondering who he was. Ravus quickly picked up on this, and stepped forward, in front of him. 

“General Septum, General Varnus, might I introduce an acquaintance of mine: Noctis Lucis Caelum.” 

Noctis wasn’t sure exactly what he was supposed to say, but he knew it probably wasn’t ‘hi’, so he put on his best diplomatic face and smiled at them, hoping that would be enough.

Unfortunately, it seemed it wasn't. 

“The King of Lucis?” asked Quintus, eyeing him with suspicion.

“When did he arrive?” asked Illya, turning back to Ravus and ignoring him entirely.

“Just now,” said Noctis, before Ravus could get a word out. “Why? Is that important?”

Illya looked at him in shock, as though she couldn’t believe he was speaking to her. “Oh! No, I suppose not.”

“Pull yourself together, Varnus,” growled Quintus. “We don’t want to make a bad impression on our guest, do we?” 

She glowered at him, but made no retort. 

“If you two are quite done with the theatrics?” sighed Ravus. “I assume you have a good reason for barging in here and disturbing my talk with the King of Lucis?”

“We do,” said Illya, her expression becoming grave again. “With regard to the daemon patrols, Lavernia Bellus is still unaccounted for. Seeking permission to order a search for her, sir.” She did a short bow towards Ravus. 

Ravus’s frown grew deeper. “Permission granted. Be sure to remind your agents that if there’s any sign they might not make it out, they are to retreat immediately. We cannot afford to lose more people in the search for her.” 

“I understand,” said Illya, before quickly making her way out. 

“And you, Quintus?” asked Ravus. 

Noctis noticed that the muscle in Quintus’s cheek twitched as Ravus addressed him, and it wasn’t too hard to guess by his expression that he did not appreciate being spoken to in such a manner. If Ravus noticed, however, he didn’t say anything about it. 

“With regard to our plan to re-take the Capital—”

“We have already discussed this, General,” said Ravus, in a very tired-sounding voice. “I’ve already told you that we cannot risk the camp by withdrawing all the patrols and sending them into the city. It would be suicide for both parties.”

Quintus looked like he was about to snap at Ravus, but just about managed to hold himself back. “I am sympathetic to your position, Lord Ravus, but the longer we delay our attempt, the greater a hold the daemons will have on the city. And we can’t last out here forever.”

“I know that. Which is why it’s fortunate that the solution to our problems has arrived.” His gaze fell on Noctis. 

Quintus looked at him with a calculating gaze. “Am I to assume you mean this boy?” 

“I have a name,” said Noctis, rather sarcastically. He knew that Quintus wasn’t such a dreadful person in himself, but by the Six he was hard to get along with. “And the power to turn most daemons into dust with enough effort, if that means anything to you.” 

Quintus’s expression contorted itself into a frown. “The power of the Ring of the Lucii?” he asked doubtfully. 

“Indeed,” said Ravus. “I have seen it action myself, General, there is no reason to doubt him.”

Noctis had to force himself not to glance at Ravus with surprise, because he knew for a fact that he hadn’t.

“I see.” Quintus seemed to relax a little. 

“I will explain the plan to you in full once I have agreed it with the King. Now if you’ll excuse us?” Ravus looked pointedly at the door. 

Quintus gave a tense smile. “Of course. I will meet with you tomorrow, Lord Ravus.” 

Some of the tension finally lifted from his shoulders when Quintus left the room. Ravus carefully lowered himself into a nearby chair, though Noctis got the impression he wanted to fling himself onto it. 

“Well,” he said, looking up at Noctis, “now you’ve met the leaders of the two factions within this camp. An interesting pair.”

“Yeah,” said Noctis, suddenly feeling a lot more tired than before. “No kidding. Why did you tell him you’d seen me use the Ring?” 

“Oh, that,” said Ravus, waving his hand, carelessly. “It was the only thing that would have convinced him you were of any use to us. The Niflheim military have a very strong fascination with magic, and Quintus is no exception. Besides, I know you have the Ring, so I might as well have seen you use it.” 

“Right.” Noctis still felt as though his head was spinning. 

Ravus was staring at him with a frown. “I know I said to him that I would finalise the plan with you now, but I’ve no intention of doing so—it is clear you need to rest, and I believe the sooner your companions know you are alive and well, the happier they will be. Do you agree?” 

“Yeah. It’d be good to see them again.” 

“Then I will take you to them.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Eyy Noctis is back at camp—if not yet reunited with the others. Ravus is finally coming into his own a bit in these chapters, and it was really interesting to write him not being completely on the defensive all the time! (It's definitely improved his personality, I'll say that much.)
> 
> Thank you to everyone still reading! I really hope you enjoyed this chapter, and if so, please let me know!


	5. Concealment

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Previously: A dazed Noctis makes his way out of the forest he landed in and is rescued by an elderly man who takes him to the camp by the remains of the Capital. Noctis recalls his previous experience of the attack that befell Tenebrae, and meets with Ravus, as well as the two generals in power in the camp. Ravus arranges for Noctis to meet with his friends.

The tent that had been prepared for him was fairly nice, on the whole. Noctis hadn’t expected Ravus to put that much thought in, but he supposed once the others arrived it was only natural that they’d expect him to show up sooner or later. The outside was a dark red, and inside the room was carefully laid out so there was plenty of space for anything he might want to decorate it with. Not that he had much on him, what with them leaving the Regalia behind in Lucis, and then losing his bags in the crash. 

Ravus had gone off to bring the others to him, so now he was left to sit here in silence, waiting for them to arrive. 

How would they react? Probably with relief—after all, they couldn’t have known if he’d survive the crash. He hadn’t, technically. He was functionally immortal now, just like Ardyn. That made him shudder to think of. Should he tell them? That much at least they might understand. And it would be important for later too—if one of them tried to sacrifice themselves for him when he would be just fine no matter what... No, he needed to tell them. Maybe not right away, but—

The tent flap flew open, and all at once a gangling pile of limbs came rushing in. 

“Noct?” Prompto’s eyes were wide, and his face pale. 

Noctis would have confirmed it, but he couldn’t get a word out before Prompto was rushing at him, throwing his arms around his shoulders and squeezing him so tightly he could barely breathe. 

“Ha ha, I’m glad you’re okay too,” he gasped as Prompto tried to squeeze the life out of him. 

“We were so worried!” said Prompto, mercifully loosening his grip again. “When we couldn’t find you after the crash—”

“I know,” he said, wrapping his own arms around Prompto. “I was worried too. I’m just glad you’re all alright.” 

Prompto gave a relieved laugh, and for a moment they just stood in silence, Prompto still hugging him tightly, as though reluctant to let go. With all that had been happening lately, Noctis couldn’t exactly blame him. 

Eventually, Prompto took a deep breath, and let him go. 

“Sorry,” he said, his cheeks flushed, “I know that might have been too much, it’s just... A lot’s been going on, y’know?” 

Noctis smiled. “I know. Honestly, I wasn’t expecting the city to look like this either. To think the daemons came so quickly...” 

Already plans were beginning to form in his mind, of what to do now he had all the information. How to stop the spread. As soon as they took back the Capital they needed to head for Accordo. 

If it hadn’t fallen already.

“Yeah,” said Prompto. “I had no idea what was going on here—that somewhere so big could fall so quickly...” 

Noctis thought about what he knew—of Prompto’s parents, the fall of Insomnia. No doubt the trip had been distracting him from all that. But now it was back, and they couldn’t afford to try and run from it anymore. 

“We’ll take back the Capital,” he said. “Then we’ll go to Accordo and do the same thing, until we have enough to beat them.”

Prompto was looking at him oddly. “You really think we can do this, huh?” 

Noctis frowned at him. “Be kind of hypocritical if I didn’t, right?” 

“Oh no—I don’t mean it’s bad or anything, just...you aren’t usually like this, if you know what I mean.”

Damn it. The cracks were already showing through. 

“Yeah,” he said, scratching the back of his head. “I guess being yelled at by Bahamut kind of kicked me into action, if you know what I mean.” 

“That would probably scare anybody,” said Prompto, smiling.

He seemed like he was about to say something else, but at that moment, the tent flap opened again, and this time four people entered. Ignis, Gladio and Luna had all been in the same place, it seemed, because they all came in together, with Ravus close behind, making the tent rather crowded. 

“Thank goodness you’re alright,” said Ignis, before anyone else could get a word in. “I had wondered if you’d be able to make it here by yourself.”

“I’m fine, Specs,” said Noctis. “Just a bit bruised from the landing.”

“I knew you would find us, Noctis,” said Luna, smiling. 

“It’s good to see you with my own eyes, that’s for sure,” said Gladio. 

“How _did_ you make it out okay?” asked Prompto, from behind him. “You fell out of the ship, right?”

“Yeah,” said Noctis. Right. This was make it or break it time. Should he tell them what he saw? What happened? Would it make them trust him a bit more? “I, um, the room I was in completely detached from the ship, so...”

“Yeah, Aranea told us,” said Gladio. “I take it you didn’t land on anything sharp then?” 

“Well...” Well indeed. “I hit my head, and then...” 

“You fell unconscious?” asked Ignis.

“No... I died.” 

The silence in the room was deafening. Like lightning about to strike his skull, to bring judgement down upon him.

“How did you come to this conclusion?” asked Ravus, staring at him from near the door, his eyes narrowed and suspicious. 

“When I woke up I was in this...place. Like the flower garden near the Manor, only...different, somehow. Gentiana was there.” Both Ravus and Luna’s eyes focused in on him. “She said that I couldn’t die, because the Astrals wouldn’t let me. That as long as Bahamut wanted revenge he wouldn’t let me go. Then I woke up. And I was in the forest again.” 

He took a deep breath in. He didn’t like saying any of that, and the others were still looking at him strangely. 

“I don’t know, maybe it really was just some strange dream, but...it didn’t feel like that, if you know what I mean. And I fell like, fifty feet or something crazy like that. I don’t know how I’m still alive, honestly.” 

“What you describe does sound like an intervention, Noctis,” said Luna, her hands clasped tightly together. “I’ve had dreams of the type you describe when the Gods were trying to communicate with me without the aid of a messenger. The fact you recall the details so exactly speaks to that.” 

“But what does that mean?” asked Gladio, his voice slightly panicked. “That he can’t die now?” 

“I do not know,” said Luna. “The Gods do not grant such power lightly—no one has received such a curse in centuries.”

She briefly met his eyes, and they both turned away, knowing precisely who the last recipient was, and that he was probably still stalking them even as they spoke. 

“Noctis,” said Ignis, frowning at him, “you said Bahamut sought revenge. You didn’t mention that originally.” 

Shit. He hadn’t, had he? All at once the split in his mind flared up and almost choked him, new versus old, screaming at one another about what to do, whether to lie again and damn himself further, or tell the truth and risk them all leaving him for eternity. 

But it seemed that while his mind was at war, his tongue was spinning words of its own accord, trying to keep himself safe regardless. 

“It’s complicated. When I woke him up he was...less than pleased. He thought I was trying to kill him. I tried to speak to him but...he wouldn’t listen to anything I said.” 

“I’m sorry, what is all this?” asked Ravus, staring at them. “Why would the Draconian act against you in such a manner? What happened in Gralea?” 

Answers and secrets tore at each others throats as Noctis tried to scramble for something, anything to say. 

“I broke the Crystal,” he said, it being the only thing that came to mind. 

“What?” snapped Gladio. “You didn’t mention that before!”

“Didn’t I?” 

It was all so confused. 

“You said as much to me,” said Luna, clearly noticing the tension in the room, “and given how much happened in that short time I could see why you would forget not mentioning to your friends.” 

“That’s a pretty big thing to forget, no offence, Noct,” said Prompto, staring at him from the corner of his eye. 

Come on! Pull it together! 

“I— Its all been so different,” he managed to say, and fortunately that seemed to make sense to them, because the anger in Gladio’s gaze lightened a little, and Ignis’s stance became less tense. “I’m sorry. It was the only way I could think of to see him—there was no light in the Crystal, no nothing, so... I just broke it. Hoped it might do something.”

“So no power lay within?” asked Ignis, eyes narrowed. 

“No.” 

“So you broke the Crystal,” said Ravus, watching him and Luna very carefully. “What then? I take it the Draconian was not pleased?” 

“He was...” Rightfully furious? Finally lashing out after centuries of silence? “Already angry, when I spoke to him. He condemned us—all of humanity—to die because of it.”

Ravus’s eyes went wide. “You provoked the Gods into declaring war on us?”

“It wasn’t like that!” The anger was already rushing up inside him. “There was something else—” Something he could never speak of. He was trembling. Something was building within, stronger and darker with every breath. No no no—excuses! Excuses! Find one—now! “The time travel.” Found it. “He thought it was...wrong, that I’d done that. That it had warped the nature of the world—or something like that, anyway.”

“Did he not give you the power to reverse your fate to begin with?” asked Ravus, not giving him a chance to breathe. 

“I don’t remember.” Lies. “But if he did, then he doesn’t remember either.” 

“I see.” 

His skin was so cold he felt as though he was standing in a snowstorm. If the others hadn’t noticed the strain that had put on him yet then they soon would. He needed to act quickly. 

“I couldn’t change his mind when we spoke. But that doesn’t matter right now. I can take back the city with you, and it’ll be much easier if I can’t die while doing it.”

Ravus sighed. “I suppose you make a good point. It _will_ be easier for you to complete your task if you can’t die in the process. Provided you’re willing to risk your life for those accompanying you, that is.”

“I will,” said Noctis, without hesitation. It was the least he could do. “If you guys want to come with me, that is.”

“Sorry, what task is this?” asked Ignis.

“To take back the Capital—specifically the Manor, from the daemons now swarming within. Are you capable of that?” asked Ravus.

“You agreed to this?” asked Ignis, turning back to Noctis. 

“Yes.” 

“It’ll be dangerous,” said Gladio. “Even if you are some kind of immortal now.” 

The light in the corner of the tent flickered. 

“With myself and Noctis’s power, we would be fine on our own, if it came to that,” said Luna, leaning her face in her hand. 

“No,” said Ravus. “That is far too dangerous—please try to remember you are the only one still able to cure the Starscourge, Lunafreya.” 

“I know that, Ravus,” she said, a little shortly, “but you cannot deny we’ll only be putting more people in danger if you insist on a large guard to go with us.” 

“It is not I who will insist on a guard,” said Ravus, glancing at the tent opening. 

Luna paused for a moment before replying. “I am sympathetic to their concern, but surely they will see reason—”

“If you’d been having to deal with them for the last four days Lunafreya, you’d know that reason is on another plane of existence for these people,” sighed Ravus. “Each group will insist on having at least one soldier accompany you, never mind these three, and that already makes your group up to seven.” 

“It is our duty to accompany Noct,” said Ignis, unflinchingly. 

“We could do it with seven people,” said Noctis, wracking his brain for a relevant memory, trying to ignore the fact that his eyes were trying to roll back in his head and render him unconscious. “I think.” 

Ravus sighed and rose from his seat. “It doesn’t matter now, in any case. We will sort these details tomorrow. For now, all of you should rest. Though there will be no sunrise, there is a bell that will sound when it would usually occur. Meet me in the main tent tomorrow. Then we will devise our plan of attack.”

And with that he strode out the door. 

“I believe Ravus is right,” said Luna, turning back to them. “We should all get some rest.”

Gladio nodded. “Yeah, after all that we could probably use a break.”

“Weird that there’ll be no sun though,” sighed Prompto, approaching the door. 

Ignis had not yet made a move to leave. Noctis could feel panic beginning to resurface—if he tried to interrogate him about the slip he made when talking about Bahamut...

“Come on, Iggy,” said Gladio, nodding towards the door, and lifting Noctis’s spirits considerably.

“Apologies,” said Ignis, with a distant smile. “See you tomorrow, Noct.”

“Yeah, see you this morning!” called Prompto, as he left.

“Make sure to get enough sleep,” said Gladio, as he and Ignis left together. 

“I will,” said Noctis. 

Then he was alone.

He slumped onto the bed in the corner, all the energy leaving his limbs at once, and lay flat on his back, staring up at the ceiling. That had been close. Too close. The anger had begun boiling inside him, threatening to hijack his magic and make him into something truly terrible. He _had_ to keep a handle on that. For himself, as well as everyone else. 

If he lost control like that again...

These memories were already costing him, and he’d made Ignis suspicious to boot. He couldn’t last much longer keeping it from them—but how to explain? He hadn’t made any progress on that front, too busy with thinking of Gralea and confronting Bahamut to put much thought into it. But if he didn’t tell them at some point he’d lose them. Maybe forever this time. And he couldn’t afford that. 

But he couldn’t afford to alienate them with he’d done in the past either. They had to think it was still _him_ in there somewhere, even if he doubted the truth of it himself. Telling them he’d sacrificed them all for the greater good countless times and gone on more God-killing sprees than he wanted to think about was not a good way to do that. They could only ever get a half-truth anyway—they would never understand through his words alone. But they also wouldn’t understand why the Gods were truly so angry if he couldn’t tell them the dreadful things he’d done. 

A dull headache was forming in his temples, and his limbs still ached from the daemon fight earlier—not to mention the endless walk to get there. He closed his eyes, letting the merciful darkness soften the ache for a moment. 

What a miserable situation. If there was someone he knew that wouldn’t freak out if he tried to ask them about it then that would be a different scenario, but there was no one. No one who could rescue him from this darkness that plagued his mind. And with that uneasy thought, he drifted into restless sleep. 

* * *

Prompto, Ignis and Gladio were walking back to their tents together, but for Ignis, his mind was still back in the tent with Noctis. When he’d spoken of Bahamut...

The panic in Noct’s eyes once he realised his mistake, and when he was arguing with Ravus about why he’d condemned them...it was hard not to come to the conclusion that he was concealing something from them about his confrontation with the Draconian. 

Ignis just couldn’t understand. Why would he lie to them again after all that had happened with him attempting to conceal his time travel? Surely he knew by now that they trusted him, and would not abandon him, no matter what he’d done? But there must be something he was leaving out. He’d gone so pale when discussing Bahamut Ignis had been afraid he might faint, but he’d managed to stand his ground—and that was a large part of the problem. 

Something was certainly off about Noctis, but it had been since the beginning of the trip, so it was hard to tell if it was truly something to be concerned with or just another oddity produced by his strange experience with time travel. And he would resent Ignis if he tried to ask what was wrong when Noct wasn’t ready to say. He knew that well enough by now. 

“What’s eating you, Iggy?” asked Gladio, as they were nearing the end of their walk. “You haven’t said a word since we left the tent.” 

Ignis sighed. Noctis might be good at concealing _his_ feelings, but he, it seemed, was not. “Does Noctis seem...different, to you?” 

“How d’you mean?” 

“Since we left Gralea he’s been...oh, I don’t know. His conflicting accounts concerning the Draconian worry me. I’m not sure he is giving us the entire truth.” 

Now it was Gladio’s turn to sigh. “Yeah. You don’t want to think so, but it’s hard not to think he was lying about some of it.” 

“He seemed fine before everyone else turned up,” said Prompto, quietly. “And Lady Lunafreya was right, he has been kind of all over the place since Leviathan. His memories are probably still messed up from that.” 

“Could that account for it, you think?” Ignis wondered aloud. 

“He does seem shaky on the details, but at least he’s not going on about dying anymore,” said Gladio.

“Yeah, what do think about all this ‘immortality’ stuff?” asked Prompto, his lips pursed. “Think he changed his mind on dying?” 

Ignis shook his head. “No, I think he was describing a real phenomenon when he spoke of his experience falling out of the airship. And if what he says is true, his ‘immortality’ will end the moment the Draconian decides to allow him entry to the Beyond.”

“After his revenge,” said Gladio, distantly. 

“Yes.” 

That was another concerning element if what Noct spoke of was true. 

“Any idea what it might be?” asked Prompto. “Noct didn’t seem to want to talk about it.”

“Well it’s all of us dying, isn’t it?” said Gladio, grimly. “That’s what Bahamut’s going to do because he was woken up—like Leviathan.” 

“I can’t help but think there’s more to it than that,” said Ignis. “Though I admit I’m at a loss as to what.”

“I know what you mean, Iggy,” said Gladio, rolling his shoulders, “but I don’t think we’ll get any further unless we ask Noct directly, and for now we should all get some sleep anyway. I bet it’s already past midnight.” 

Prompto yawned conspicuously, and Ignis suspected he’d been looking for some excuse to leave. “Well, I’m definitely tired. See you guys tomorrow.”

“See ya,” said Gladio.

“Until tomorrow, Prompto.” 

Prompto disappeared into his tent, leaving the two of them alone. 

“Do you really think he’ll talk to us?” asked Ignis, quietly. 

“I’m not sure,” said Gladio, glancing back the way they’d come, “but we have to try. I think he knows we need to know too. He’s just reluctant to tell us for...whatever reason.”

“I hope you are right.” 

Gladio gave a sympathetic smile as he opened the flap to his tent. “Good night, Iggy.”

They had to rest. But that didn’t mean Ignis felt any easier about it.

“Good night, Gladio.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It may be a new story, but unfortunately Noct's talking-to-people-skills have not improved. There's still a lot he's left unsaid regarding his past and the real reason Bahamut's out for his blood, and it's most certainly going to cause him more trouble later. 
> 
> Thank you so much to everyone still reading and I hope you enjoyed this chapter! If so, please let me know!


	6. The Assignment of the Guards

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Previously: Noctis is reunited with everyone, but accidentally lets slip a little too much about his true reasons for opposing the Gods, causing Ignis, Gladio and Prompto to become suspicious of him once again. The plan to retake the Capital of Tenebrae is confirmed.

The atmosphere was so tense you could cut it with a knife. 

“Say that again, General?” said Ravus, his teeth clenched tightly. 

“It won’t work,” said Quintus Septum, staring them all down from the opposite side of the table. “Five people? Five _children_ , essentially, and you’re trusting them alone to retake the manor? I thought you had more sense than this, Ravus.”

“That’s _High Commander_ to you, General Septum,” growled Ravus, clearly on the verge of losing his temper. “And these are no children. All five of them have had more experience fighting daemons than any soldier here, and two of them have gifts granted by the Gods themselves to smite such monsters.”

“So you say,” said Quintus, “but they’re still only five people. You’d need an army to break the siege, High Commander, surely even you understand that.”

“We do not _have_ an army, Quintus,” spat Illya, glowering at him with a similar ferocity to Ravus. “Most of our trained soldiers died in the city mere days ago. Or have you already forgotten that?” 

“I still think—”

“Quiet!” snapped Noctis. He couldn’t take much more of this nonsense, not after getting practically no sleep last night. “We are very _graciously_ offering you our help, General Septum,” he said, glaring at him. “Given that there’s no one else on the star more equipped to fight daemons, I think it would be smart for you to take it. And, in case you’ve forgotten, I beat the Goddess Leviathan in single combat, so I think you’ll agree I’m capable of facing down a few daemons.” 

Quintus clenched his teeth and furrowed his brow, but his tone was level when he spoke. “I see. But I take it you understand...Your Majesty, that you and the Oracle are major political figures in your own right? If this expedition goes poorly, we cannot be seen to have sent you off without even an armed guard to ensure your safety.”

Ravus raised an eyebrow at him as if to say ‘I told you so’. Noctis ignored it.

“I understand your position, General, but sending more people than necessary would surely only put more lives at risk.”

“No,” said Illya, her eyes still on Quintus, “he has a point, we must at least send one of our own people to guard you on your way towards the Manor. To do otherwise would be negligence on our part.”

“We will send one of our people as well,” said Quintus, settling back into his chair like a satisfied cat. “We hardly need anymore anti-Niflheim sentiment around here, do we?” He looked pointedly at Illya. 

Luna rested her head in her hand in a very tired manner. Ravus gave her a sympathetic shrug while the other two weren’t looking. 

“Is that acceptable for you, Noctis?” he asked, as they turned back to face him.

“One person from each group is fine,” he said. “Any more than that would be a hindrance.”

Honestly having them there in the first place was a hindrance, but there was practically no choice. 

“Good,” said Quintus, smoothly, “I’m glad that’s all settled. We shall have the proper people picked out by tomorrow. While we’re all here together like this, I’ve been meaning to enquire, Ravus—”

“High Commander,” said Ravus, stiffly. 

Quintus gave a strained smile. “High Commander, as you say. Anyway, I’d heard Commodore Highwind returned to us yesterday. Where is she? Doubtless she would be an excellent candidate for this job.” 

“She left early this morning. I believe she considered her efforts better spent in trying to stave off the daemon invasion currently happening in Accordo. We still have forces stationed there, as I’m sure you well know.”

“Ah, I see,” said Quintus, “well that is a shame, isn’t it? I will have to go scouting for another candidate.” 

Illya looked as though she wanted to say something scathing about the Niflheim forces, but held her tongue. 

“Well, I’d consider our plan decided,” said Ravus. “Both of you find the guards you would like to accompany the operation and have them present outside this tent tomorrow morning at dawn. Dismissed.” 

Both leaders looked put out that Ravus had ended the meeting so soon, but as they got up to leave, Noctis had never been so glad to see people go.

When it was clear they’d properly gone and there was no chance of them overhearing, he slumped onto the table dramatically and gave a huge sigh.

“They sure know how to keep a conversation going,” mumbled Prompto. 

“They seem a little less adept at knowing when to stop,” said Ignis.

Gladio shrugged. “Eh. I’ve seen council meeting that went worse.”

“It is hard, given they both have conflicting interests in this matter,” said Luna, pulling herself into an upright position again. “But I agree that it could have ended sooner.”

“I was doing the best I could,” said Ravus, defensively.

“I know. It is just a shame we will have to wait another day before attempting to take back the Manor. I feel time is of the essence in this matter.” 

Ravus’s mention of where Aranea was was a good enough reminder of that, not to mention the darkness still consuming the sky, and Noctis rose from the table, the weight of his task hitting him all at once again.

“You were quite astute in managing them, Noct,” said Ignis, catching his eye. “I admit I didn’t expect it from you.” 

Noctis shrugged. “You pick these things up after a while.” Or just got fed-up enough to use force. Whatever. 

“Now, regarding our conversation yesterday,” said Ravus, and Noctis’s heart sank even further. That was the last thing he wanted to think about right now. “I am concerned about the ultimatum Bahamut gave you in Gralea. It is all well and good taking back the city, but if we are wiped off the face of the star the next second it won’t be of much use.” 

“He won’t be able to do it straight away,” said Noctis, desperately hoping that aligned with what he’d said before. “He’ll need all of the Gods’ power to do it, and right now he only has Shiva, while I’ve got Titan, Ramuh and Leviathan. Plus Ardyn’s got Ifrit or something and I imagine he won’t want to deal with that until the end. So we still have time, but Luna’s right—we still need to go as quickly as possible.” 

“One day isn’t that long,” said Gladio. 

Noctis thoroughly disagreed, but he kept that to himself. He’d have more than enough to worry about soon enough.

“We’ll need to get ready,” he said, instead. “Guys?”

“Sounds good to me,” said Prompto. 

“That would be for the best,” said Ignis. 

They all began to rise from the table and head towards the door.

“Remember, Noctis, we will be here if you need us,” said Luna. 

* * *

After the fifth attempt to get his magic working properly, Noctis just had to accept that something had altered. It didn’t feel right anymore. Sure—he could make it work sometimes, but it was always so much weaker than it had been before. As though no matter how much he pulled at it, trying to wrench it out of his blood and into reality, it just didn’t _want_ to manifest in the real world. 

Having it shy away from him instead of exploding out like a bomb was definitely his preference, but it was frustrating either way. 

“You struggling, Noct?” asked Gladio, who’d been watching him train for a while. 

The lights beneath the Haven lit Gladio up from below, making him look more ghostly against the darkness of the night than Noctis had ever seen him before. 

“A bit,” he said, walking over to where Gladio was sitting on a makeshift seat, sipping at a cup of coffee. 

“Something wrong? You’ve been kind of all over the place lately.”

Noctis gave a chuckle, but it wasn’t a happy one. “Yeah. My magic’s been weird since Leviathan. Like I can’t quite reach it properly.”

“Think she did something to you?”

Not her personally, but given that was when he got his memories back... “Not sure.” 

He stared at the edge of the Haven, looking out at the valley beyond. It was so dark it was hard to even see the forest, only a few hundred meters away. A few man-made trails of light extended out into the trees, like the one he’d walked along to get here, but beyond that...nothing. Occasionally he thought he saw movement at the edge of his vision, but when he looked, it was gone. He was sure it was daemons though. 

“This is what it was like before, right?” said Gladio. “In the past.”

“What, mine? Yeah. Only everywhere. And not so much light.” 

“Guess the power had started running out by then.” 

It probably had. No wonder they all died. “Hmm.” 

The cold stung his face and chipped at his bones. Even the exercise wasn’t enough to drive it away completely. He could see his breath on the air—which was still mostly clear, thank goodness. When bits of ash-like miasma began to rain down from the sky then ...then he’d be worried. 

“You want some?” asked Gladio, proffering his coffee cup. “You look frozen to death.”

“Thanks,” muttered Noctis, taking the cup, then a long swig of coffee. It burnt his throat, boiling against the cold of the outside. But he didn’t care.

“Careful not to burn your tongue,” said Gladio, side-eyeing him. 

“It barely touched my tongue.” Noctis handed the cup back to him. 

“You seem more restless lately.” 

“Do I?” 

He knew it was a combative thing to ask, but he was already so tired...

Gladio gave a deep sigh. “Noct, what really happened back there, in Gralea? We can tell you aren’t saying everything. If it’s worrying you you need to tell us. We can’t help you if you won’t.” 

Noctis clenched his fists instinctively. They were onto him. He’d known they were, so why did it feel so bad to have Gladio confronting him on it? It wasn’t like he was shouting or anything. Maybe that was the worst part. 

“I’ve told you,” he said. “Saw Bahamut, he lost it, condemned us all to die, etcetera. What more is there to tell?”

“Why didn’t you mention he was angry about you breaking the Crystal? That he wanted revenge?”

The same reason he wasn’t telling them anything else. “I didn’t want you to hate me. To think it was all my fault. I know it was stupid, what I did, trying to force him to talk to me like that but I didn’t think he’d threaten to _kill_ us all... I dunno. Maybe it was my fault. I just... I don’t want you to think less of me, that’s all.” 

Gladio gave a half-sigh, half-laugh. “That’s what you were worried about?” Noctis gave him a reproachful glare. “Sorry, it’s just...you think we’d just abandon you after coming all this way? Me and Ignis are sworn to protect you, Noct. We’re not just gonna up and leave. And Prompto’s your best friend. Think a little more of us in future, huh?” 

As though he didn’t think of them more than enough as it was. “No promises.”

Gladio lightly shoved his shoulder. “Go back inside. You’ve done enough training for today. You need to be ready for tomorrow.” 

“I know,” he said, rising to his feet. He could already see the Manor in his mind's eye, the daemons waiting for them within...

“Oh, and Noct?” He turned back to face Gladio. “Try to get some sleep, huh? You always get so cranky when you’re tired.” 

He cracked a genuine smile at that. “I can’t deny that. See you tomorrow, Gladio.” 

“Get some rest, sleeping beauty.” 

Smiling, Noctis made his way back to his tent.

* * *

Noctis stood outside the black and white striped tent, waiting for any sign of anyone coming. It was still about half-an-hour until the morning bell, he’d checked on his phone, but he was too anxious to wait back inside. In a matter of hours they’d be in the Manor, trying to destroy all the daemons in one fell sweep. For all his confidence yesterday, it was no mean task, and he knew it. 

Lights from the tents all around kept the darkness from pressing in with too much intensity, but even with beacons of red, and green, and yellow far in the distance, he couldn’t help but feel uneasy. His mouth was dry. Feet twitching, ready to go, as soon as possible. 

“You’re here early,” came a voice from behind him. 

He didn’t need to turn to guess who it was, but he did anyway. “Hi, Luna.”

“Hello, Noctis,” she said, pushing her way through the tents to stand next to him. “I take it you couldn’t sleep?”

“You know me. Sleep and I are eternal enemies.”

Luna smiled, then became serious once more. “I admit, the scale of what we will attempt to achieve today intimidates me. We will need to be prepared for the worst.”

“Yeah,” said Noctis, frowning. “We’ll need to try and get through the daemons as quickly as possible. It doesn’t bother me so much, but I’m worried about the others.”

“They have fought daemons before.”

“Not like this.” Though it was only a brief time he’d spent in the world of darkness before, the daemons he saw there—their power and almost invincibility—he’d always remember that. “These things aren’t like normal daemons.” 

Luna’s lips tightened. “I fear you are right.” 

They stood for a few minutes in the darkness, and Noctis stared out at the edge of the camp, still hoping vainly that all this darkness was his imagination, and that the sun would somehow force its way over the horizon, destroying the daemons and freeing them from their task. He knew it wouldn’t happen though. However much he wanted it to.

“Ah, I see you two have made it here ahead of time.”

Ravus approached them, his white uniform standing out in the darkness. Luna was wearing darker colours than usual today, perhaps realising they didn’t want to draw unnecessary attention from the daemons.

“Always raring to go,” said Noctis, a little sarcastically. 

“Why are you here, Ravus?” asked Luna.

He walked over and stood next to them, appearing oddly deflated. “I merely wanted to see you off, that’s all. And make sure neither of the Generals pulls any tricks with their soldiers.”

“Do you think they’d try?” asked Noctis.

“I wouldn’t put it past them.”

“Having to shield five additional people will be a strain,” said Luna, tonelessly. Ravus gave her a look. “Of course I will do it, but it does seem unnecessary.”

“Good luck trying to shake off Ignis, Gladio and Prompto,” said Noctis, only half-jokingly. “After losing me on the airship they’re not gonna let me out of their sight.”

“I suspect that our conduct in Gralea only made them further suspicious, you are right,” said Luna, frowning.

“What’s this?” asked Ravus, looking at them curiously.

Being as he was the one who had caused that mess in the first place, Noctis avoided his gaze. “Nothing, we just got separated, that’s all.”

“Ardyn manipulated us with an illusion.” 

Ravus’s eyes widened. “So he was there? You didn’t mention him before.”

Noctis snorted. “Yeah, he kind of got outclassed by Bahamut in the end. I’m pretty sure he isn’t pleased about that.”

“I can imagine,” mused Ravus. “He’s always struck me as an attention-seeker—I wouldn’t be surprised if you run into him on this excursion of yours. Do be careful.” 

Noctis internally rolled his eyes—Ardyn was about as threatening to him as a hedgehog, but Luna seemed to be taking him seriously, so he didn’t say anything. 

It wasn’t long before his friends arrived, all of who seemed to in various stages of actually waking up. Gladio was wide awake, but both Ignis and Prompto appeared to be still half-asleep. Not that he could really blame them. This darkness messed with the mind when it came to such things. 

Then they all stood together, waiting for the Generals, or their agents, to arrive.

It was only a few minutes before the dawn bell sounded that two figures approached them through the tents. One was a man, middle-aged but very thin, who walked with a silent tread, and seemed to have an odd, hungry gleam in his eye. The other was a woman of about the same age, only she stood tall and upright, her expression twisted into a permanent frown, and her arms straight by her sides. 

Once they were within earshot, the two introduced themselves.

“George Litus, at your service,” said the man, with a low, and somehow very insincere bow. “I was commanded by General Varnus to stay by your side and guard you during this venture. I will do so to the best of my abilities.”

“Flavia Acquila,” said the woman, not moving a muscle. “I have been sent by General Septum.” 

“I see,” said Ravus, staring at the both of them with distinct displeasure in his eyes. Noctis couldn’t say he blamed him. “You are aware of what you have been tasked to do? To protect these five with your lives as they attempt to free the Manor from daemons?”

“Yes, sir,” both replied in unison.

“Alright then.” He turned back to face them. “And you. Are you ready for the task that awaits you?” 

Noctis nodded, and so did all the others. 

“Good. Best of luck to you on your journey, and do try not to get killed, won’t you?” 

“We will take the utmost caution, Ravus,” said Luna. 

Of course, the thing Noctis kept thinking as they made their way through the tents, towards the outskirts of the city was: would the utmost caution be enough? 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is all very politics heavy, but I swear we'll focus more on the action from now on! Not to mention the fact Ardyn's been very patiently waiting in the shadows for all this to occur, so he'll most definitely be breaking his silence soon. 
> 
> Thank you so much to everyone still reading, and I hope you enjoyed it. If so, please let me know!


	7. Fenestala Manor

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Previously: The Generals stationed at camp insist on each sending a guard with the party so as not to be seen as weak should any of them die. Noctis tries to train for the upcoming fight but finds his magic is unusually weak and during this Gladio confronts him on hiding Bahamut's true motives, but Noctis continues to obscure the truth. Everyone prepares to set out into the city.

Fires still raged deep in the city, no wind in the air to blow them out. As they stepped across the threshold, the smell of burning metal choked out all else. Even on the edge of the Capital, its buildings rose high into the air, the architecture influenced by the tall trees of Tenebrae, twisting and spiralling into the blackened sky.

“Do you know the way?” Flavia asked in a dull monotone as they entered the city.

“Indeed,” said Luna, sharply. Clearly she was offended by the notion she didn’t know the way to her own home. “It is not far from here.”

Flavia frowned a little, but didn’t say anything more. Instead, she and George walked on opposite sides of them as they continued into the city. Noctis hadn’t said anything to the others yet that morning. 

“You guys ready to go in?” he asked.

“Got my sword, haven’t I?” said Gladio, pointing to the massive thing resting on his shoulder. 

“Gladio is right,” said Ignis, though he still sounded rather tired. “We’re as prepared as we can be. Best to get it over with.” 

Shadows moved in the darkness, flickering at the edge of Noctis’s vision. Daemons. Watching them. 

“You guys are used to fighting daemons, right?” he asked their escorts, keeping one eye on the shadows.

“I have some experience, yes,” said George.

“The Empire has always been careful to keep an eye on the daemon threat,” said Flavia, though if Noctis wasn’t mistaken, she appeared to have become tense. Perhaps she knew...

“Yes,” said George, apparently picking up on this too. “So close they put them in their own soldiers, isn’t that right, Acquila?”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” said Flavia, stiffly. 

Luna gave Noctis a meaningful look. This wasn’t going to be pretty.

“Of course you do,” said George, regardless of the growing tension. “It’s your people that caused all this—first sending in the MTs that slaughtered thousands of us, then bringing that plague over from your own miserable country and infecting us with it.”

“The Starscourge did not originate in Niflheim,” said Flavia, her voice growing more constricted. “It exists everywhere there is daemons.” 

“A fine cover story,” spat George. “Doesn’t change the fact that it was only after your damned Emperor got himself a God-Complex and started trying to blend daemon and man that the darkness started creeping in.”

Flavia had gone pale, the veins on her forehead starting out. 

“How dare you disparage the name of our Emperor,” she whispered, her voice deadly quiet.

“I’ll do worse than that,” said George, eyes blazing. “It’s not just him, your entire miserable country is complicit, and now the world’s ending because—”

“Enough!” cried Luna, and the two became silent. “You have been instructed to escort us, not squabble over your allegiance. How are we supposed to—”

An ear-splitting screech sounded on their right, and all at once, a huge creature came bounding out of the darkness. A hobgoblin—a big one. And more behind it, drawn to its cry. 

Noctis had his sword in his hand before he even knew what he was doing. There was a _crack_ from behind him as Prompto shot at the creature, but even though a blackened hole formed in its shoulder, it kept barrelling towards them, relentless. 

It threw itself at Flavia, who already had a gun out and was pointing it at the creature, but more were coming. 

Then they were surrounded by hobgoblins, and Noctis had to weave and dodge out of their way as they swiped with their claws, trying to somehow land a hit in the flurry of confusion. He thought he felt his sword connect with one, but the moment it did, something smashed into his chest, and all the air escaped his lungs as he gasped for breath. 

He could see the others all around him, trying their best to stem the tide, but more and more daemons were appearing out of the alleyways, and coming screeching through the air, sensing weakness. 

“Get out of here!” yelled George, hauling Noctis to his feet, blood spilling down his cheek from a cut over his eye. “Get to the Manor! We’ll deal with this!” 

The bridge that led to the Manor was right at the end of the street, and more daemons were appearing by the second. He nodded, grabbed Prompto by the wrist, and began to run. 

“Come on!” he yelled, as he passed the others. “We can’t stay here!” 

“But Noctis—these people!” called Luna, fending off a thunder-bomb with her trident. 

“They swore to protect us,” he said, breathless, “they knew what might happen. We _have_ to get to the Manor—or all of this will be pointless!” 

Luna took one last look at the horde of daemons honing in on Flavia and George, then began to run, towards the bridge at the end of the street.

They weren’t free of the daemons though. Even as they ran, the cacophony of sound that was uncountable daemons manifesting hit Noctis’s ears, chasing after them, determined to tear them apart. The ground shook as an Iron Giant stomped behind them, and the relentless screams of more and more daemons pursued them along the street.

Noctis could hear his heart pounding in his ears as his feet collided with the ground, each impact sending adrenaline racing through his chest, making his heart beat all the faster. He could taste blood in his mouth. Was he injured? 

The others ran alongside him, relentless as the daemons pursued them. The bridge was getting closer and closer—if they could only get on it—no daemon would be foolish enough to manifest there, would they? 

The iron railings rose before them, but Noctis didn’t have time to observe them. He had to keep moving. And the next moment, he was on the bridge. And square in the middle, rising out of the darkness ahead of him, was the monstrous shadow of a mindflayer. 

It hovered off the ground, it’s glistening tentacles blocking their only path to the Manor. 

Noctis did not stop running.

“Noct! Wait!” Gladio called behind him, but he paid him no heed. 

He had his sword at the ready, hilt held in an iron grip in his hand. He was three seconds away from colliding with it. 

Two.

One.

He leapt into the air, just before he would have crashed into it, raising his sword high over his head, even as he heard the electricity crackling from the beast’s open jaw. And before it could do anything, before he even felt the pain, he brought the sword down hard on it’s skull, cleaving it in two with a single stroke. 

Then the electricity hit. It went crackling through his bones, shocking him to a standstill. Pain flickered through his chest, his muscles, his heart, as he gasped desperately for breath, trying to keep everything from shutting down all at once. 

For a moment it was agony. Then it was gone. 

“Noct!” Ignis was by his side, pulling him to his feet. “Are you alright?” 

He gave a great, shuddering cough, trying to clear his lungs of the gunge that had seemed to consume them. “Keep going,” he managed to hiss. “Can’t stop now.”

Ignis looked like he desperately wanted to say more, but just nodded, and helped as Noctis kept forcing one foot in front of the other. 

Luna was walking ahead of them, he trident held out in front of her, in case any more daemons came to try and kill them. 

But none did, and then, finally, they were at the end of the bridge. 

Fenestala rose out of the darkness before them, it’s shining white stone seeming grey and tarnished in the oppressive dark. The flowers that had once surrounded the front of the palace were blackened and shrivelled, death and decay in every crack. 

Noctis pushed Ignis away, forcing himself to stand on his own two feet. It hurt. But that was nothing new. 

Luna looked up at the Manor with no expression on her face, but Noctis could guess how she was feeling. 

“We’ll bring the light back,” he said, standing next to her. 

“I know.” 

The path leading up to the front door was paved in pale gravel. Their feet crunched against the pebbles as they made their way forward. There was no other sound, not even coming from the city. It was as though entering the grounds had caused time to come to a standstill within. 

A huge wooden door loomed before them. A strange, dark liquid was seeping from beneath it, spreading onto the step just in front of them. The doorknob was cold to the touch. 

“Are you ready to go in?” asked Ignis, behind them. 

Noctis glanced at Luna. She nodded. 

“No time like the present.” He opened the door. 

A blast of cold air washed over them, thick with the smell of darkness and decay, the scent so strong Noctis could barely breathe. He heard Luna gasp beside him, and forced his eyes open, trying to see whatever it was that lay within the house. The foyer was so dark it was hard to see inside, but what little he could see made his stomach turn. 

Large, solid masses of some dark, pulsing material were spread all over the inside, growing out of the walls and furniture like tumours. He stepped back instinctively, but his foot came down on the ichor spilt over the floor, almost making him slip over. 

“Woah there!” cried Gladio, grabbing him by the shoulders. “I got you.” 

Noctis couldn’t take his eyes off the inside of the house. Even in the darkest of times, in the blackened ruins of Insomnia, he’d never seen such a thing. 

“Wh-What is that stuff?” asked Prompto, his voice cracking. 

Noctis found himself instinctively looking to Luna, but he was surprised by the expression on her face. Her teeth were clenched, her eyebrows drawn into a scowl and she was gripping her trident so hard her knuckles had gone white. When she spoke, her voice was thick with anger. “I don’t know. But we must destroy it at all costs.” 

The air inside the Manor was stale and rotten. It seemed to somehow hurt his lungs to breathe. 

“This place is poison,” muttered Luna, once they were inside. 

“Do you think the Starscourge did that?” asked Prompto. 

“Not sure,” said Noctis. The blackened lumps of solidified ichor were somehow worse up close. “I’ve never seen anything like this before.”

“Whatever’s causing it must be somewhere deeper inside the Manor,” said Luna, looking down to the end of the foyer, where another door lead into still more darkness. 

“What should we do when we find it?” asked Gladio. 

As though the answer to that wasn’t perfectly obvious.

“We kill it,” he said. And that settled that. 

The corridor that extended out ahead of them was deadly silent, the once grand trimmings of royalty now soiled by plague, even the wallpaper seemed to be bleeding with ichor. They had yet to see any daemons within. Somehow Noctis doubted this would last long. He held his sword in an iron grip, magic buzzing at the edge of his senses. 

“Watch out!” 

A large hand impacted with his back, shoving him forward—just in time to avoid the sword of a Yojimbo, which had crept up soundlessly behind them. It glowered at them from beneath its hat, before taking a wide swing with its sword—the tip only just missed Noctis’s stomach. Right. Time for some action. 

He leapt towards it while it was still distracted, landing a blow on its arm as it tried to lunge away. He expected the others to leap in to take advantage of its distraction—but no help came. And now it was focused on him and him alone. He nimbly dodged out of the way, trying to avoid warping too much, lest he drain his magic even further, but as the creature got more aggressive he was left with no choice. Unfortunately, he’d forgotten to factor in an important element: he was wearing the Ring. And when he dodged with the Ring...

Light exploded from his senses, dazing him and sending the Yojimbo flying backwards, turning to dust on impact with the wall. Noctis gasped for breath as the sounds of battle finally became audible to him over the rushing of blood in his ears. He turned back to the others. More daemons had appeared—Luna seemed to be holding her own, but Ignis was clearly struggling against a Black Flan. He ran over before he had time to catch his breath, slicing the creature with his sword, even though he knew it would do little good. But that was all the help Ignis needed to get back on his feet, going toe-to-toe with the daemon once again. 

One final blow and it was gone, just like the rest. 

The battle was over. For now. 

“Wow,” gasped Prompto. “That was intense. Is it just me or are the daemons in here super strong?”

“No, they’re strong,” said Noctis. “I’m willing to bet this disgusting miasma stuff isn’t helping.”

“Noctis is right,” said Luna, frowning. “The daemons here are of an unusual ferocity. I imagine it shall only get worse, the deeper we go into the Manor. Are any of you injured?”

Noctis looked around. No one seemed too badly hurt. And they did still have potions, after all. “I think we’re fine,” he said.

“Then let us keep moving.”

It wasn’t long before they emerged into a large, and probably once very grand room. As it was though, it was merely a monument to the daemon’s destruction. Noctis noticed, as they stopped for a moment, that Ignis was frowning quite a lot. 

“Everything good?” he asked sidling over to him. “I mean, besides...everything. Sorry, that was a bad question, wasn’t it?”

Ignis gave a melancholy smile. “I appreciate the sentiment, Noct. And yes, there is something worrying me.”

That was never a good sign with Ignis.

“What is it?”

“Ravus mentioned that during the attack, he and others escaped from the Manor, but not all of them were so fortunate. Yet there are no bodies here.” 

Ignis was right. For all the living mass of ichor seemed to have infected the house, there was no sign of anything gory—no bodies, and no blood. But of course, Noctis could guess what had happened. 

“Ignis,” he said gently, not wanting it to be too much of a blow, “you remember what I said when I was telling you why I hid the Starscourge? What it does to people?”

Ignis’s frown grew deeper. “You mean...”

“I doubt the daemons in here came out of nowhere.” 

Ignis let out a long sigh. “Noct...”

“I know it’s hard. But we have no choice but to keep going. And killing them is the kindest thing we could do.”

“You’re right, of course,” he said, but his voice betrayed his distress. 

“Are we ready to keep moving?” called Gladio from the other side of the room, looking over at them. 

“We’re fine,” Ignis called back. 

Though it wasn’t true in the slightest. 

* * *

Doors and doors and doors. And where there weren’t doors, daemons. Noctis had already been forced to use the Ring several times, and now it seemed to claw at the edges of his soul as if determined to rip the life from him. Perhaps that was because he knew now that using it would only destroy him faster—or perhaps it really did hurt more, knowing the Gods angry with him for his arrogance. 

If the others noticed his distress they didn’t comment on it, probably too absorbed in trying to keep themselves alive—and in fairness, it wasn’t like _they_ were immortal. Noctis was worried though; even though he didn’t remember much of Fenestala Manor, he didn’t recall it being as big as this, and even Luna didn’t seem to know quite where she was going. They’d already passed through about five different rooms that all looked the same. Something wasn’t right. 

“Think we’re getting closer?” he asked, as Luna pushed open yet another identical door. 

“I think so,” she said, though she didn’t sound at all certain. 

“Is it just me, or have we been through the same room like five times now?” 

The room that lay before them was similarly furnished, the walls mangled, the ichor everywhere. Luna frowned. 

“I think you may be right.” 

“Think the Starscourge is warping the house somehow?” asked Gladio. 

“No...” said Noctis, though he wasn’t sure whether that was true. The power Ardyn had to create illusions...was that the power of the Gods, or the power of the Starscourge? They could both stop time—but illusions? Noctis had never tried it. Either way, they ought to be on their guard. He wouldn’t be surprised if Ardyn was here somehow, watching them from the shadows, turning them in circles...

“Do you think Ardyn is the one behind this?” asked Luna. 

“It’s definitely possible,” said Noctis.

“Is there any way out of the illusion, do you think?” asked Ignis. 

“Not easily.” 

He could usually tell when Ardyn was trying to pull an illusion on him, but breaking it... 

There were two things Ardyn could be doing in this instance. The first—turning them around again and again so they kept going through the same room. The second, making each room look the same, even though they really were making progress. 

“We can try and hack it,” he said, as an idea appeared in his mind.

“Hack?” asked Luna. 

“Um, trick it, basically.”

“Would such a thing work?” 

“Only if he’s not paying close attention.”

“Isn’t that kind of likely if he’s trying to trap us?” asked Prompto. 

Noctis sighed, taking another look at the room that lay beyond the door. “Good point...although, if he is here, he’s probably busy with all these daemons too—if we can find a way to distract him...” 

“We could start a fight,” offered Gladio. “Would that work?”

“What are your thoughts on ‘hacking’ the illusion exactly, Noct?” asked Ignis.

“Starting a fight might work... I was thinking that if we leave something in here, then try to go ahead, we’ll either see it again—which means we’re being turned around, or we won’t, which means he’s making the rooms look different.”

Ignis nodded. “That may well be the answer we need.” 

“So who’s fighting and who’s going on ahead?” asked Prompto. 

“It would be most sensible for Noctis and I to fight, while you three go on ahead,” Luna pointed out. 

Gladio’s eyebrows creased into a frown. “But Lady Lunafreya—Noct—”

“Immortal,” said Noctis, pointing to himself, “and can literally dissolve daemons,” he said, pointing to Luna. “We’ll be fine, Gladio.” 

Ignis gave a short sigh. “As much as I hate to admit it, they have a point.”

“Hey, what if _you’re_ the things we leave behind?” said Prompto, clearly excited. 

“Us?” asked Luna.

“Yeah! You guys stay here fighting, while we go on ahead!” 

“That would be harder for Ardyn to try and mess with, even if he did work out what we were doing,” mused Noctis. 

“It’s the perfect plan!” 

“Although I am uneasy about us splitting up, I agree that it seems like the best option, under the circumstances,” said Ignis. 

“How exactly are you going to attract the daemons?” asked Gladio, sounding very uneasy. 

“They’ll come,” said Noctis. 

“Alright,” said Ignis. “If we do not see you in the next room, we’ll try to return to this spot.”

“See you later,” said Prompto, waving them goodbye. 

“Goodbye,” said Noctis and Luna in unison, as they shut the door behind them. 

The room seemed all the more ominous with only the two of them within. Something about the pervasive sense of decay seemed to chill him down to his very bones. 

“Horrible stuff,” he said, looking at the blackened holes in the walls where the ichor had seeped through. 

“It will certainly take some effort to restore the Manor to normal after this,” Luna said quietly. 

“Think getting rid of the daemons will help?”

“I hope so.” 

“To think, all of this happened in only a matter of days,” she said. 

“I suppose that’s all it needs,” said Noctis, though it was a chilling thought. That they’d fallen to the darkness so quickly, practically without warning...

One of the walls was bubbling. “Um, Luna?” 

She saw it too. “They’re coming.”

The next moment, an Ereshkigal exploded out at them, blue and snarling all the while. Noctis batted it away instinctively, but soon there were more. A whirl of claws and teeth, beams of white hot heat shooting across the room as Noctis tried to take out as many as he could. 

Luna was striking at them with her trident, their small bodies disappearing into dust—but more were appearing with every second from the tumour-like growths on the walls and floor. He kept going, relentless, but knew that sooner or later he was going to have to bank on the others coming back, or using his magic. But that was a last resort.

Blood sprayed before his eyes as one of the Ereshkigals clawed a long stripe down his arm. He slashed at it, dissolving it to dust in seconds, and cracked a potion over his wound, trying not to wince as the skin stitched itself back together. But another was already launching itself towards him—he couldn’t hold out much longer...

The door slammed open and three familiar, very welcome faces appeared. They immediately leapt into the fray—Gladio and Ignis helping him, while Prompto went to help Luna. Finally, after much more hassle, they were free of the daemons. 

“Is it just me or are those things getting worse?” panted Prompto. 

“Could be,” said Noctis. “What happened? Are we cycling around or what?” 

“No,” said Ignis, shaking his head, “I believe Ardyn has merely been changing to look of the rooms we’ve been going through. The illusions shattered after three doors, then we came back to search for you.” 

“Thank you for your assistance,” said Luna, leaning heavily on her trident. “It was much appreciated.” 

“Always happy to help,” said Gladio. 

Noctis glanced at the door they’d come through—sure enough, the room looked different to before: smaller, and with more broken down bookshelves than there were in this one. That was a relief. He’d been beginning to think they’d never be able to escape. 

“We should get moving,” he said, and the others all followed him through the door. 

The next rooms were all different, much to his relief, and Luna seemed to get her bearings again, leading them on a deliberate path through the palace, up several sets of stairs, until she paused at a small wooden door. 

“Everything alright?” he asked, noticing her hesitation. 

“Yes,” she said, “it’s just... I’ve led us to the balcony above the throne room. I strongly believe that whatever it is that’s creating this rot throughout the house will be within. If it spots us, we will likely be in great danger.” 

“We’re ready,” said Gladio. 

If the creature was anything like what Noctis was imagining it to be...they’d better be. 

Luna nodded. “Then let us proceed.”

She pushed open the door. 

The air within seemed even more dead than that throughout the rest of the house, and if he looked closely Noctis thought he could see flecks of miasma floating in the air, creating a darkness deeper than any he’d seen before.

“Wait!” he said, as Gladio was about to go in. “We should cover our faces first. I don’t like the look of that stuff in the air.” 

Luna peered more closely at the darkness beyond the door. Even the tiny amount of light from the darkened hallway barely seemed to penetrate it. 

“Noctis is right,” she murmured. “We ought to be cautious.” 

She drew the scarf she was wearing from around her throat and tied it over her mouth and nose like a face mask. Noctis wasn’t wearing one himself, but it didn’t take long to find a few in the Armiger, and toss them to the others. He noticed as he did that the movement stung the tips of his fingers. He tried not to think about it.

When they were all masked, he looked to the others, waiting for the go ahead. They nodded at him, then they all went into the next room. 

The balcony extended high above the edge of the throne room, carved from the silvery white wood of the trees of Tenebrae, and circled the entire length of the room, ending at another door on the other side. The throne room expanded out below them—it was a massive room, on par with the one back in the Citadel, and Noctis had only laid eyes on it a few times before. Once when he was visiting as a child, and second, during his fateful trip to Tenebrae during one of those earlier cycles. He’d never returned. 

But the throne room looked nothing like it had back then. 

For one thing, it was hard to see, even with his eyes adjusted to the darkness. The air was so thick and poisonous he could barely even glimpse the other side of the balcony, let alone the room far below. For another, though it was impossible to see to the bottom, they could still observe the ceiling, and from it, there was something truly horrible attached. 

Growing out of the decaying plaster of the ceiling, a thick, fleshy length of blackened muscle was extending downwards, getting slowly thicker as it did, connected to something vast lying on the floor below. Every few seconds, it gave a horrible shudder, and something pulsed below them, like the warped, terrible sound of a human heartbeat. 

A few very dim, yellowy lights kept flickering on and off somewhere near the floor. They provided no illumination to whatever lay around them though, and as Noctis approached the edge of the balcony to get a better look at the thing lying beneath, he got the unsettling impression they were watching him. 

“What—” began Prompto, muffled by his mask, but both he and Luna instantly shushed him, afraid of what might happen if the creature, or beast, or whatever-it-was realised they were there. 

Noctis had never seen anything like it, not even in his worst cycles. The worst demons he faced were usually of his own making—but this? This was something new. 

He exchanged a glance with Luna, and tilted his head towards the door on the other side of the balcony. She gave a silent nod. 

The silence was palpable as they crept along the thin wooden structure, barely daring to breathe as they attempt to avoid the notice of the creature. Every few seconds, the tendril connecting it to the ceiling would give another shuddering thump making Noctis’s teeth set on edge. Even though it was only two hundred metres or so, the journey seemed to take hours. 

Then they were at the door, and Luna was silently turning the knob, pushing it open, and they were all bundled through to the other side, almost slamming the door shut in their hurry to get away from that _thing_. 

Prompto pulled his mask down and exhaled deeply, before drawing his breath in and half-shrieking, “What the _hell_ was that?”

“I don’t know,” said Luna, pulling her scarf down. “It was unlike anything I’ve seen before. I suspect it may be unique to this invasion.” 

“Noct?” asked Ignis, turning to him. “Have you seen anything like this on your travels?”

“No.” He could answer that one without hesitation. “That’s something new.”

“Something bad?” asked Gladio. 

“Very, very bad,” said Noctis. 

That thing had definitely been what was causing the miasma in the air, possibly even these blackened tumours of Starscourge that had infected the house. He’d never seen anything this powerful of Ardyn’s creation in any timeline. Was this somehow his fault?

“It must be what’s infecting the house,” said Luna, speaking his thoughts aloud. “And though I hate to say it, I suspect that we must get rid of it if we are to free Fenestala from the daemons that menace it.” 

Personally, Noctis didn’t want to lay eyes on the damned thing again if he could possibly avoid it, but that hardly mattered now. He had a job to do. 

“Then we’d best get moving,” he said. 

He’d pushed open the door to the next room without even thinking what might be on the other side. 

That turned out to be a mistake. 

Enormous yellow eyes stared down at him. A huge, snake-like creature was coiled above him, already snarling as it leant back, getting ready to strike. It was moving too quickly—he hadn’t heard it—he’d never dodge out of the way in time. Six damn him! If he had only thought...

Then it was lunging for him, and he threw out his arms instinctively, willing _something_ to happen to save him—

And it did. 

His magic, which had been eluding him since he came back from Gralea, exploded out in a flash. Noctis hadn’t called on it, had barely even realised it was there, but now it was rushing out through his fingers, cracks lighting up beneath his skin, biting through his flesh and crashing out into the world outside. Everything went white. The pain was so overwhelming he could barely even feel it. His flesh was numb. Did he even have any at all? 

Then it was gone. 

His knees fell out from under him as sensation came roaring back. His vision was blurred—the daemon cracking and crumbling in front of him, but he could barely tell.

It was as though someone had removed his skin then stuck it back on with glue, some places connecting with his nerves others not. His hands felt as though they’d been shredded through a blender, and his shoulders ached like all his bones were broken, but he couldn’t feel his arms at all. 

It took him a moment to remember the others were still there, and probably staring at the mess he’d made of himself. 

Ignis was the first to appear in his line of sight, which was no surprise. He’d have turned to look at the others, but he didn’t want to injure himself further. 

Ignis’s mouth was moving, but Noctis couldn’t hear anything but a very faint ringing. He was probably asking him if he was alright. What a question. It was perfectly obvious he wasn’t. He blinked a few times, hoping that if he just stopped trying so hard for a moment he’d regain movement. 

It wasn’t working. He closed his eyes. Took a deep breath. Muffled noises surrounded him—good, that meant he was beginning to get his hearing back. In...out... He could still breathe. That was something. 

A large hand closed around his shoulder, making his over-taxed muscles shriek in protest, and he opened his eyes to scowl at the perpetrator. Gladio’s face swam in front of him, but his vision was beginning to clear and become stable once again. And he could move the muscles of his face... Maybe...

He tried to marshal his throat into speech, but his tongue was stuck to the roof of his mouth, and it seemed to him that his windpipe was coated in sand. No, perhaps not just yet... Although it hurt immensely, he managed to lift his arm and very pathetically attempt to remove Gladio’s hand from his shoulder, which was now aching even worse. 

“Hey...wh...doing?” he managed to make out from Gladio’s voice. 

He scowled harder in response, but that probably didn’t explain much. He tried to speak again. “Hurts...” he managed to hiss. 

“Oh.” Gladio mercifully removed his hand. “What’s going on? Can we help?” 

Noctis blinked a few times. The pain was very gradually beginning to dissipate, though his throat was still red-raw. 

“It’ll go away,” he managed, just about. He knew this kind of pain by now, after all. It was terrible in the moment—he was barely conscious as it stood—but it tended to pass pretty quickly. Though he knew he’d be feeling the after-effects later. “Just...give me a moment.”

“We’ll keep watch.”

Noctis’s sight was now almost entirely returned, and he saw everyone had gathered around him, watching him carefully. He must have given them quite the fright. 

That wasn’t the worst of it though. Not by a long shot. 

That was a sign he was losing control of his magic... He hadn’t expected it to happen so quickly. It was possible this was just a one-off, but he didn’t want to test the theory. He was going to need to be careful from now on. Very careful. 

He gave a long exhale. His chest hurt. 

He couldn’t have said how long he sat like that, silent and still waiting for the moment when his limbs would obey him once more. Maybe it was five minutes. Maybe it was an hour. Time shifted and blended into one long moment. People moved around him but he didn’t notice them. 

Then, like a switch had flicked on in his brain; he was back again. He rose to his feet. 

“Woah there! Noct!” Prompto was at his side immediately, his hands already going to Noctis’s shoulders in case he collapsed again. 

“I’m as back together again as I’m going to be,” he said. “We keep moving. The sooner we’re out of here the better.”

Prompto still looked concerned, but didn’t push it. Well that was something, at least. 

He let the others lead the way this time, keeping to the back, not wanting to run headfirst into another monster, lest his magic take over again. Luna walked with him at the back. 

“Noctis,” she said, her voice quiet but urgent. “What happened back there—with your magic—”

“Providence,” he said, wondering if that excuse would work. Well it perhaps wasn’t right to call it an excuse—that was the truth, after all. She didn’t know it had taken him several hundred years to get to this point though.

“Do you know how much time you have left?” she asked. “If it keeps doing that to you... I know you believe you have Bahamut’s protection, but his grace only goes so far. If this continues to happen it may trap you in a never-ending cycle of death.” 

Noctis bit back the urge to laugh. “Yeah, I was guessing that might happen. I don’t know how much time exactly—this is the first time it’s been as bad as that.”

“It might be sensible for you to refrain from using magic as far as possible in future,” she said. “I know it is hard, when we’re dealing with daemons of such might, but the alternative must surely be worse.” 

“I understand,” he said. 

As they continued through the house, the daemons kept coming, and even avoiding summoning other weapons from the Armiger, Noctis still found himself warping out of the way of attacks, or throwing himself across the room with magic. If he’d learnt how to fight without it being an intrinsic part of how he did that, then it would be a different matter. But as it was... The energy within him was building. He couldn’t feel it yet, but soon he would, and then...then he would have to run. 

The others kept a sharp eye on him as they made their way down towards the throne room, Ignis sharper than most. That magical explosion would be harder to explain to them than Luna. And part of him was still terribly guilty about concealing from them the true reason the Gods were out for his blood. It seemed wrong to drag them into this. But it wasn’t time for the truth just yet. Or at least, that’s what he kept telling himself. 

Then, almost too quickly, they were at the grand doors leading into the inner chamber. 

The air, like it had been up on the balcony, was thick and stale. They’d all wrapped their scarves around their faces once more, and Noctis felt the chill on his exposed skin like it was poison. 

“Are we ready?” he asked, one hand on the door. “Whatever it is in there—it’s going to put up a nasty fight.”

“Don’t think we’ve got any other choice,” said Gladio. 

“We’re ready, Noct,” said Ignis. 

He nodded, and they pushed the doors open. 

Down on the ground level, the air was worse than ever, and Noctis felt himself instinctively shrinking away, the memory of the Starscourge still vivid in his mind. But the air was nothing compared to what lay in front of them. 

It was huge, taking up almost the entire floor of the inner sanctum, glutenous and globular and stinking with decay. As they walked in, the yellow lights Noctis had seen from before all flicked on in unison, all over its body. And now it was obvious that they were eyes. 

The time for fright, however, had long since past. 

Noctis walked up the stairs towards the creature, trying to see if there was a weak point he could strike at. The low, sinister _thump_ of the creature’s heartbeat had become that little bit faster. Noctis’s own heart was thundering in his chest. It hadn’t yet made any move to try and stop them. Then he reached the top of the stairs, and…

Scuttling. 

A dreadful sharp, scratching, scraping sound came from the creature—seemed to come from everywhere, every corner of the room. Its eyes moved, shifting, getting higher, and in front of him, Noctis saw, emerging from the beast’s dark, glutenous body, hundreds of small, sharp, pointed legs. Claws. There was one final _thump_ from overhead. 

Then the tendril attaching it to the ceiling shattered. 

Noctis instinctively leapt back, shielding his face, and when he looked up he saw a thousand smaller tendrils, now attaching themselves to the walls, as the creature raced towards him, claws scraping on the floor. 

He slashed at it as it approached, dancing out of the way as it tried to impale him on one of its legs, but his sword barely made a dent in the hard covering coating them. He tried to cut at its body, surging around him but once again, the scratch quickly disappeared, subsumed by the rest of the beast’s impressive size. 

It jabbed at him, again and again, and even though the others were valiantly trying to wound it, it seemed to be focused on him in particular. 

Soon it was making more hits than he was, and he was running through potions—quickly—too quickly. 

He had to get away, just for a moment... There—up in the corner—a ledge!

He flung his sword up, into the wall, and next second he was flying through time and space, hanging off the end of it with all the strength left in his arms. 

The others were putting up a good fight. Prompto, realising guns didn’t seem to be working, was hacking away at it with a saw, but it wasn’t making much of a dent. Ignis jabbed at it with his polearm, but it was no use—only Luna and Gladio seemed to be making any progress. Gladio’s greatsword was large enough that he was able to actually shatter some of the creature’s legs, stopping it from progressing any further into the room. And Luna’s powers as the Oracle were neatly taking care of the creature’s body—but even as she dissolved large chunks of it, more and more kept appearing. 

Noctis was hesitant about what he planned to do next. Yes, Luna was right about his powers—about them slowly growing until they destroyed him. But with this creature there seemed to be no respite. It was obvious that light magic would hurt it more than anything else would—Luna’s strategy seemed to be working best—but could he afford another break like the one he’d had earlier?

Little shocks ran through him as he saw the others reaching for more and more potions. Soon there would be none. And then...then... 

He leapt to the floor, right in front of the beast, standing steady in front of it. 

“Noct?” Prompto called out in surprise. 

“Get back!” he yelled, pointing to the door. “I can handle this!”

He nodded and went sprinting away. Noctis looked around for the others. 

“You too!” he called to Gladio and Ignis, pointing at the door. “You have to go!”

They looked hesitant, but after a moment they obeyed. Now it was just him and Luna. The creature was still advancing. 

“Noctis—”

“Trust me,” he said. 

She looked at the door, then back at him. “You had better make it out of this alive,” she said, then followed the others. 

The creature loomed over him, barely injured at all. It was time. 

And then time…stopped.

The Ring was heavy on his finger, but he needed it for this. He extended his hand out, towards the creature, its yellow eyes glaring at him. A well of energy sat waiting in his chest. He reached for it, stretching out—and then the two forces made contact.

For the merest fraction of a second, it was deadly still. 

Blinding light burst out of the ring, illuminating the entire room in a deadly, brilliant glow. The force of it was so great the floor beneath his feet abruptly vanished as he was sent flying backwards. Then he was falling through the air, so fast, too fast—he looked up at the beast…

Time seemed to slow as he stared at it.

He was floating downwards, suspended, falling, watching as the light expanded through the throne room, burning away all that was left of the beast. A great hole appeared in its centre, and the very air vibrated, as though it was roaring in pain as the light tore it apart. The darkened tendrils it had attached to the walls dissolved, and atom by atom it fell to pieces, the light purging its rotten body, exposing it purifying flame. 

Then he was falling properly again, and pain exploded through his back as he landed hard on the stone floor, coming skidding to a halt. 

He was still somehow conscious, and for a moment he thought that would be the worst of it. 

For a moment.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, an actually action-y chapter at last! Fortunately the daemons aren't too much of a problem—Noct's magic on the other hand—definitely getting worse.
> 
> Thank you to everyone still reading, and I hope you enjoyed this chapter! If so, please let me know!


	8. Aftermath

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Previously: Noctis, Luna, Gladio, Ignis and Prompto lose their escorts on the way to the Manor due to a daemon attack. Within they find signs that the daemon incursion is progressing in a strange new way, miasma becoming solid and poisoning the air. They eventually discover this is the work of a massive new daemon Noctis has never seen before. In the process of making his way through the Manor, Noctis has his magic explode on him twice, making him gradually ever more unstable.

The sun shone bright through the high windows of the throne room, and for a moment Noctis wasn’t sure why it felt so wrong to see. Then he remembered. The darkness—cloaking Tenebrae—choking it...it was gone? 

A sharp stabbing pain ran all at once from his head to the tips of his toes, making him hiss and fall back to the floor in agony. He tried to keep his breathing even, even if he wanted to scream from the pain—this was nothing to be scared of. He’d been waiting for this to set in. Punishment for over-stretching himself so badly. 

He managed to flip himself onto his side, easing the pain in his chest a little, hunching over in an attempt to block everything out. 

The sound of a large door being pushed open echoed around the room. 

“Noctis?”

Footsteps, running towards him. 

He knew he looked in a bad way, all this light coming out of him, but...

Luna’s face appeared before him, her face framing a deep frown. “Noctis? Can you hear me?” 

“Yeah,” he whispered. “I can hear you.”

“Good.” She closed her hand over his wrist—probably checking his pulse. Her expression did not become any lighter.

The pain was beginning to fade, bit by bit, as it always did. 

But where were the others? It wasn’t like only Luna cared for him, was it? What... He could feel something on the air, something...oh no. 

“What have we here then?” 

Luna immediately jerked around as the familiar voice of Ardyn boomed around the throne room. Noctis forced himself up onto his arms, even though he was certainly in no state to be doing so. 

Ardyn was standing carelessly in one of the shattered windows, staring down at them with malice in his gaze.

“Why are you here?” asked Luna, quickly rising to her feet. 

“Oh, I think you know,” said Ardyn, hopping down carelessly to the floor and staring at them. “It’s very annoying what you’ve done to my little pet, I’ll have you know. Just when I was really starting to like it here—now, alas, I’ll have to start all over again.” He stared mournfully out of the window at the sun, still low in the sky. 

“So you did create that...thing,” said Luna, scowling. 

“Why tie it to the sun?” asked Noctis, though he struggled to get the question out, his lungs still arguing with him. 

“Twas not intentional, dear Noct,” said Ardyn with a nasty smile. “Sometimes these things take on a life of their own. This one was rather helpful to begin with—it spread the darkness so marvellously, you see. And I imagine it wouldn’t have had half such a dramatic effect if you hadn’t killed it by blowing it up like that. Very inconvenient.”

“I take it this clemency will not last forever,” said Luna, still frowning. 

Ardyn grinned. “As soon as I can bring Tenebrae to darkness once more, I will. Although it will obviously be harder this time. Of that I have no doubt.” 

“Why keep doing this?” Noctis panted. “Why keep fighting us? You don’t have to.” 

A twisted expression crossed Ardyn’s face. “You don’t know anything,” he said, his voice absent of the genial, joking tone it’d had before. 

Noctis repressed the urge to roll his eyes. “It doesn’t have to be like this—if you would just leave us alone—”

“It is ordained.” Ardyn’s voice had taken on a deep, menacing tone that Noctis usually associated with Bahamut. “It is pointless to fight it—or do you believe yourself above the Gods?”

“Not above,” said Noctis. “But not below either.”

Ardyn stared at him, furious yellow eyes boring deep into his own, and Noctis remembered the confrontation they’d had just after he made an enemy of Bahamut. Ardyn had had that same expression on his face then, too. Of all the people Noctis knew, he thought that Ardyn might be the only one who could guess at what had actually happened during their conversation. 

Finally, Ardyn blinked, breaking eye-contact and walking to the other side of the dais. “I see,” he murmured. “And what do you think of all this, Lady Lunafreya. Do you agree with your esteemed fiancé?” 

“We are not getting married,” said Noctis, before Luna had time to respond. 

Ardyn raised an eyebrow. “Is that so?” 

“Are you surprised?” asked Luna, sharply. “You are the one insisted upon it.”

“Yes,” said Ardyn, distant. “I suppose I did, didn’t I? But you’ve not answered the question, my Lady.” 

He gave a mocking bow in Luna’s direction. Her expression didn’t change, but Noctis could see from where he was sitting that she’d balled her hands into fists. He felt much the same. 

“The distinction matters not,” she said, her voice strained. “If they have declared war upon us, our only option is to fight.” 

Ardyn gave a strange, almost hysterical laugh. “Is that so? My, what bravery from you two.”

“Are you jealous?” asked Noctis. “That we decided to fight while you never even tried?” 

An ugly look spasmed over Ardyn’s face, exposing the rotting black ichor underneath.

“Silence!” he hissed, his eyes wide and feral. “You know _nothing_ of my life! Nothing of what I have done—for this star, and for everyone, and now you have the nerve to declare _I_ never attempted to resist the Gods! You are children—dust on the winds of time—how could you understand anything—”

“You think this is the first time _I’ve_ done this?” Noctis shouted back, almost forgetting himself as white-hot rage bubbled up within him. “ _You_ are the blind one, Ardyn. The Gods do not dictate our fate—there are things in this world that can’t be changed, but people aren’t one of them. You _chose_ to do this. And you can choose not to. But you don’t _want_ to see what can be done—you want to think it was all for nothing, that it was meant to be this way, so you have some sort of excuse. But we both know that isn’t true. Don’t we?” 

Ardyn’s face was contorted with rage, almost bestial. “You...” Though his voice was quiet, Noctis could hear it loud and clear. “You’ve done this before.” 

He _had_ said as much. Now he just had to play this off without Ardyn realising…

“Yeah,” he said. “Congratulations on being the last to work it out. I died and everything. Then I came back.” 

“But how?” hissed Ardyn, at the foot of the stairs before Noctis even saw him moving. “Why?” 

“Don’t know.” Liar. “But I figure something must not be right.” 

“That can’t be—”

“It’s true,” said Luna, stepping towards him. “How else do you think Noctis was able to predict you would come for me on the altar?” 

Ardyn hissed, baring his teeth. “I knew something wasn’t right,” he growled. “Because you knew...” 

“So,” said Noctis, “what are you going to do now? In case you hadn’t noticed, we were kind of in the middle of something.” 

“I am not done with you yet!” yelled Ardyn, his rage rearing its ugly head once again. “This time travel—it caused this…disruption.”

Ardyn was clearly thinking hard about it, which was about the last thing Noctis wanted to deal with. 

“I mean, in a way—”

“And you,” he said, glowering at Noctis, “are a liar. How to reconcile these two things?”

“What are you talking about?” asked Luna, indignant on his behalf, though she really shouldn’t be. “Noctis has never lied to us.”

Ardyn threw back his head and gave a horrible laugh, the kind that seemed to seep into your skin and make your bones grind against each other in protest. 

“Is that what you think?” he said, wiping a black, glutenous tear from his eye. 

“I’ve had enough of your games, Ardyn,” said Noctis, struggling onto his feet, ignoring the pain that rushed through him as he did. “I’m in no mood for them today.”

The look of ugly discontent reappeared on Ardyn’s face. “Harsh words for someone gambling with the life of every human on the planet. But perhaps you don’t see it that way.” Suddenly he was at Noctis’s side, far too close to him, and Luna instinctively pulled out her trident and pointed it at Ardyn’s neck. Ardyn chuckled. “I’m going to keep a close eye on you. Even if you won’t admit what happened in words, I’ll find something to trip you up, I assure you.”

“Good luck with that,” snarled Noctis.

Then he was gone, and the moment he vanished, a cool breeze blew in through the window. 

Noctis had never been so happy to be cold in all his life. 

Unfortunately, Ardyn’s absence meant some of the adrenaline which had allowed him to rise to his feet was wearing off, and his legs trembled wildly beneath him. Luna was at his side in a second, and moments later his friends came rushing in, looking around wildly. It wasn’t long before they noticed the change. 

“The sun!” exclaimed Prompto, already rushing towards the window. “It worked!” 

“Sure did,” said Noctis, with an exhausted smile. 

Ignis and Gladio quickly came over to help Luna. 

“Are you alright, Noct?” asked Ignis, still worrying. “Do you need to rest?” 

“Well, yeah, obviously. But we need to actually get back first, I think. No offence Luna but I don’t really want to sleep here.” 

“None taken,” she said with a smile. 

“What about the creature?” asked Gladio, looking around the room. “Did you get rid of it?” 

“Completely gone,” said Noctis. “It sure doesn’t like light magic, I can tell you that much.” 

“I’m glad you’re okay,” said Prompto, jogging over. “When the light came out of this room we were worried...”

“It’s fine,” said Noctis, raising his hand. “I get it.” 

“We’d best get you back to the camp,” said Ignis, wrapping his arm under Noctis’s shoulders, helping him stand upright. “It should be easier now dawn has come.” 

Noctis and Luna exchanged glances. 

“I am afraid it will not stay that way forever,” said Luna. “This has been but a temporary victory, and we must remain on our guard as we return to the camp.”

“How’d you mean?” asked Gladio. 

“She means Ardyn’s still around, and he’s not exactly happy we’ve done this,” said Noctis, repressing a groan as pain shot down his legs from trying to shuffle forward. 

“He’s still a threat?” asked Prompto, looking around. 

“As long as there are daemons, yes.” 

As long as he refused to see the truth...but Noctis suspected two thousand years of resentment and resignation wasn’t going to fade so easily. 

“We’ll be cautious as we exit the house,” said Ignis, “though the quicker we return to camp, the better.” 

“That, I agree with,” sighed Noctis. 

It was clear, upon emerging from the throne room, that the damage done to the house would not be so easily undone. Though the walls were no longer bleeding with ichor, the walls and furniture had clearly been damaged by the invasion, wallpaper still peeling from the walls, and large chunks missing from the floor where pulsing globules of miasma had once lay. And in places where the windows were intact, there was still an odd staleness to the air. Luna seemed to sense this too, for she was very tense as they walked back through the house. 

Eventually, they were back at the entrance, golden-red light now shining in through the windows, illuminating the decimated garden outside. They paused at the door. Ignis was still having to hold him up. 

“Are you ready to go out, Noctis?” asked Luna, her hand on the door. 

“Shouldn’t I ask you that?” he said, only half-jokingly. 

“I will be fine,” she said, though it was plain from her face seeing the Manor in this state had wounded her deeply. “There’s no use in delaying any longer.”

“Then let’s go.”

Before them lay the withered garden surrounding the outside of the Manor, as well as two familiar faces...

“You’re alive?” said Prompto, before realising what he’d said and clapping his hands over his mouth. “I’m sorry, I mean, that’s great, but—”

Flavia raised an elegant hand, her expression not changing at all. “Peace, there is no need for such histrionics.”

“It is heartening indeed to see you are all well,” said George, with a much more sincere bow. “We’d feared...well. We are glad all the same.” 

“The same to you,” said Luna, with a warm smile. “It is a great relief you were able to escape from the daemons still intact.”

“We’re headed back to camp,” said Noctis, a bit too dizzy to try and wish them well. “Are you coming too?”

“Certainly,” said George. “It should be a great deal easier conducting you through the city in this state.” 

“Our thanks for whatever it was you did that returned the light to the land,” said Flavia. “We’ll not forget it, Your Majesties.” 

Noctis just nodded, too tired to do anything else. 

* * *

The trip through Tenebrae was, mercifully, much less eventful than last time, and it wasn’t too long before the camp surrounding the city rose up before them. For some reason it looked less inviting in the harsh light of day, but perhaps that was just him. 

It turned out that their absence had been noted, however, for as they got closer to the camp, it became obvious that people were not going about their daily business. Instead it seemed as though they were...waiting for them. 

He noticed Luna glancing back at him, and motioned at her to come closer to him and Ignis. 

“What’s all that?” he muttered, low enough that the others couldn’t hear. 

“Isn’t it obvious?” asked Luna, looking mildly surprised. “They’re waiting for us, Noctis.”

“But why?”

It was Ignis who answered this question. “Given you just cured the country of the darkness, is it any surprise these people would want to greet their saviour?” 

Noctis shuddered at the idea of people thinking of him as their saviour. It didn’t sit right—not after everything else he’d done. He felt as though he was deceiving them somehow. 

“It is likely they will expect us to give a speech once we arrive,” said Luna. “Shall I do us the honour?” 

“Yeah,” sighed Noctis. “Not exactly feeling up to giving speeches right now, sorry.” 

She smiled. “Don’t worry. I am sure I’ll be able to produce the necessary effect.” 

People parted for them as they walked through the camp, a sea of faces gazing out at them, watching carefully. Noctis couldn’t help but think they were searching for signs of weakness, and given his injury, did not feel comfortable walking through them like this at all. 

They walked and walked, but the number of people crowding to see them only seemed to grow. Noctis found himself wishing for some sort of barrier around them, lest the people watching judged him wanting. He was no good at this popular stuff. That was going to be an issue if he had to deal with an army later. Besides, his head was spinning...

Ignis was suddenly at his ear, murmuring something. “Noct, when we reach the centre of camp Lady Lunafreya will give her speech—they will likely expect you to stand with her. Can you do that?”

Noctis wasn’t sure he could, but Ignis’s face brooked no disagreement. “Just find me something to lean on and I’ll be fine.”

“As you wish.” 

Finally, they were at the centre, near the black and white tent they’d left from early that morning. Hundreds of faces stared at them from every angle. Waiting. Watching. All at once, Ignis was gone, and shoving something rough into his hand. He looked down to see a rudimentary walking stick. Great, now he’d look just like his dad. But there was no time to think about that, he could barely stand upright, and Luna was already stepping forward towards the front of the crowd. Ravus had appeared at some point, and was staring at her happily. 

“People of Tenebrae,” she cried, her voice far louder than he’d have thought, given how tired she appeared even as they were leaving the city, “I thank you for joining us here on this momentous day!” 

The people gave a great cheer. Noctis decided he ought to smile, just so he didn’t seem entirely superfluous. 

“Today, we have freed our land from the darkness that has so long held us under its thrall. Today, we have vanquished our foe, and freed our future. Today, we will begin anew, an age of light dawning over our land once more!”

Another cheer went up, this one even louder than the first. 

“But that is not all,” said Luna, raising her hand to get them to stop. “From this day forth, we as a nation have been reborn, and we must fight for our sovereignty—for more is coming. I know this is dire news, but we have triumphed here today, and I say we shall triumph again tomorrow, and the day after that. We shall not cease to fight until Tenebrae is a peaceful land once more, and none shall be able to threaten us. What say you, my people?” 

The cheers were earsplitting.

“Will you fight for your country?”

A ferocious roar. 

“Will you join with me, as I join my power with the King of Light, to vanquish the darkness now and forever?”

Noctis thought this was probably his time to step forward, and he did, everything else falling away as the cheers of the crowd cushioned him. They...liked him? This was so strange.

Then Luna was speaking again, calming the crowd so they could make their escape, but he was too shocked by his reception to really focus on it. This was the first time he’d ever had people cheer for him—all along the vast expanse of three hundred years, he’d never had anything like this happen before. And suddenly, things made a lot more sense. It really wasn’t just him he was fighting for. Everyone here wanted to help him, wanted to beat the darkness, as he did. It was their lives he was fighting for. 

Suddenly he felt he could smile, just like Luna was, safe in the knowledge that he was going to do all he could to save them, and some of them might know that. 

Then it was over, and they were being bundled into the safe interior of some out of the way tent, Ravus beaming at them all. 

“You actually did it,” he said, sounding slightly breathless once all of them were settled. “I’d ask how, but perhaps that would take too long to explain.”

“Where’re George and Flavia?” asked Noctis, who’d been a bit too dazed to see where they’d disappeared off to. 

“They’re being debriefed by their Generals,” said Ravus. “I must say I’m glad you sustained no losses. That couldn’t have been easy.” 

“Hmm,” said Noctis, unable to think of anything more intellectual. 

“Fenestala has been freed of its infestation,” said Luna, “but I fear the damage has already been done. Its interior was badly ravaged by the attack, Ravus.”

“I see,” he said. “Well that’s nothing we can’t fix with time. What of you? Is everything alright?”

Noctis would have explained that all was not exactly well with him, but was unable to, as his brain apparently decided this was the moment to tune out, and the next second he found himself staring at the ceiling with no memory as to how he’d gotten there. He could hear voices around him from somewhere above. 

“Noct?” It was Ignis’s voice. “Can you hear us?” 

“His eyes are open,” said a voice that sounded like Gladio’s.

Noctis groggily tried to push himself upright, only to have about five pairs of hands try and stop him. 

“Noct, buddy, _lie down,_ ” said Prompto, sounding much more authoritative than usual. 

He couldn’t exactly blame them for being exasperated, but he wanted to see where he was. 

He raised his hand to try and shield his eyes from the light, for it seemed bright and oppressive. 

“What happened?” he managed to mumble. 

“Pretty sure you passed out,” said Gladio. 

“I take it this is not the first time this has occurred?” asked Ravus, his tone clipped. 

“No,” Luna’s voice was quieter than the others. “Although why it is happening I cannot say. _My_ powers have not been affected by the ultimatum Bahamut gave.” 

Noctis, of course, knew exactly why this was happening, but was in no hurry to tell them. Being doubly damned to death was no fun for anyone, and he didn’t think this would be the most agreeable circumstance to reveal that. He still needed to get on his way to Altissia, after all. 

“It’s just a fluke,” Noctis murmured tiredly, beginning to regain his senses. 

“This is the third time this has happened,” Ignis said sharply. 

Noctis shrugged. “Series of coincidences?” 

“Somehow I doubt it,” said Gladio. 

Noctis tried to push himself upright again, and this time he didn’t receive quite so much opposition, though Ignis did help him into his chair. 

“How to account for it then?” asked Ravus. “If it is not the will of the Gods—”

“It is,” Noctis said quickly, before realising what he’d done. “Or at least, that’s what I think. I mean, it’s not like anything else can affect my magic, right?” 

Luna glanced at him from the corner of her eye. He suspected she was thinking back to their conversation on the airship. And it wasn’t like she was wrong for thinking about it either, given the truth. 

“A mystery, then,” said Ravus, who didn’t look too happy about it. Neither did anyone else. 

“Guess I’ve just got to be more careful,” said Noctis, doing his level best to play it off. 

“Yes,” said Ignis, not sounding very convinced. “At the very least you should rest. You single-handedly took down two of the monsters in the Manor, you must be exhausted.”

Unfortunately, that was a tack Noctis couldn’t argue with, because he certainly _was_ exhausted. 

“Yeah, I guess,” he said. “I’ll head back.” 

“I’ll come with you,” said Prompto, before Ignis could get a word in. “I mean, what if you faint again on your way back?”

Noctis made a face, but he knew it was a distinct possibility. 

“Fine,” he said, letting Prompto guide him out of the tent without much protest from the others. 

It was a quiet walk back. Prompto didn’t seem to know quite what to say. Neither did Noctis. He hated awkward silences like this. 

“Least the Sun’s back up,” he said, glancing at the darkening sky. 

“Yeah,” Prompto chuckled nervously. “Let’s hope it stays that way, huh?” 

“Let’s hope.” 

The wind blew cold through the campsite. The sound of fabric rustling and people talking drifted along the breeze.

“At least these people can go home now,” said Prompto.

Noctis glanced over at the still smouldering remains of the city. Personally he thought that was a bit optimistic. “Right. There’ll be less chance of daemons, anyway.”

“What do you think that thing in the throne room was? A new kind of daemon?” 

“Something like that.” Something of Ardyn’s own twisted invention. “Ardyn made a bad call tying it to the daylight though. Now it’s gone, and he has to start all over again.” 

“Bet he’s not pleased about that.”

“He sure isn’t.”

They were almost at Noctis’s tent now, and he was feeling tireder than ever. “Thanks for walking with me all the way back,” he said, standing in front of the opening. “I appreciate it.”

“Hey, any time, dude!” said Prompto, grinning at him. “What are friends for?”

Noctis gave him a weak smile, before disappearing inside the tent. 

Although his body wanted nothing more than to rest, he found his head was buzzing with thoughts. Even as he lay down and felt himself relaxing into the mattress, thoughts echoed in his mind. 

He’d avoided telling them, again. It never seemed like quite the right time, and now he’d spoken to Bahamut, he felt he was dealing with the situation with his memories much better. Apart from the magic, of course. And the rages... He wasn’t getting lost in flashbacks so much, and that was _something,_ at least. 

But the truth of the matter still weighed heavy on his mind. That this was his last chance. That to some extent, the fact humanity was now in danger of extinction once more was his fault. That he was the one who brought this all down upon himself, and now everyone was having to face the consequences. 

And that, really, that was why he kept finding excuse after excuse not to tell them. Because if they knew, if they even suspected what he’d really done—what he was capable of... Well. He wouldn’t blame them for leaving. Maybe he even wanted them to. It would ease his conscience, having them out of harm’s way, and no longer having to lie to them over and over again. 

But he was also a coward. And he refused to decide either way. 

He wrapped his arms over his face, blocking out the light. His arms ached terribly from the strain. Would he even survive long enough to explain it all? Or was he already nearing the end of his days? 

His time was running out, but he had no way of knowing how fast. He should be terrified. But he wasn’t. He was just...tired. 

So tired. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, some ups and downs in this one! On the one hand, Ardyn did listen to Noct—on the other, not to the part he actually wanted him to listen to (aka: the 'please stop attacking us' one). Ardyn's also a whole lot sharper than the bros when it comes to spotting magical missteps, so doubtless it won't be long until he works out what Noct's conditition actually means. Yikes. 
> 
> And of course, _everyone_ is now suspicious of Noct's magic situation. Whether or not that will be resolved remains to be seen.
> 
> Thank you so much to everyone still reading, and I hope you enjoyed this chapter. If so, please let me know!


	9. Victorious?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Previously: Ardyn appears in the Manor, and in trying to pursuade him to leave him and Luna alone, Noctis reveals his time travel to him. Ardyn swears to keep a close eye on Noct and vanishes. Luna, Noct and the rest of the group returns to the camp where Luna gives a speech to the crowd with Noctis by her side. The magic Noctis used in saving the Manor causes him to collapse soon after, and he goes back to his tent to rest, while the rest of the group worry about his increasingly out of control magical abilities.

Nobody said much until Prompto returned, walking into the tent decidedly absent of his usual irrepressible cheeriness. 

“He’s fine,” he said to all of them waiting. “We made it back okay without him collapsing or anything.”

“And did he go inside?” asked Ignis, who knew Noctis well enough by now to suspect he might try and run off if not directed exactly. 

“Yep,” said Prompto. 

“Well that’s something at least,” muttered Gladio. 

For a moment, nobody seemed to want to talk. They all knew what Noctis’s magical problems likely meant, but none of them wanted to address it. Ignis certainly didn’t. 

“So,” said Ravus. “Prospects look grim.”

“How so?” asked Gladio.

Ravus raised an eyebrow. “Must I lay it out for you? The Gods have declared war upon us, and at any second may lay waste to our forces with a snap of their fingers. The darkness has vanished from Tenebrae, but we don’t know how long for, so we have no way of knowing if we won’t have another invasion. And finally, our best chance of combating the Gods and the darkness is apparently on his last legs.” 

“Noct’s not _dying_ though,” said Prompto, wringing his hands together. “He said the Gods were keeping him alive.”

“Yes, and what does that suggest?” snapped Ravus. “Use your brain, would you?” 

Prompto recoiled from the taunts, but Lunafreya quickly stepped in. “There’s no need to be so harsh, Ravus. We’re all worried about him. But I agree that Noctis’s fragility is troubling—it certainly seems likely the Gods are attempting to weaken him before withdrawing their protection altogether.” 

“You think they _are_ trying to kill him then,” said Ignis, his heart feeling heavy in his chest. “So that when the time is right, and Bahamut withdraws his immortality, he’ll simply die?” 

“I believe that to be the most likely option, yes,” said Lunafreya. She said it smoothly, but her wrinkled brow betrayed her worry. 

“But what’s that got to do with his magic?” asked Gladio. “That’s what’s been acting up the most, so far as I can tell. Can the Gods really mess around with it like that?”

Lunafreya turned away from them, her eyes fixed on the floor. “I don’t know,” she said. Her back was tense. Was it possible...

“Whatever the case, it puts us in a tenuous position,” sighed Ravus. “If we are to fight the Gods then we require an army—but whether or not we could reach them after building our forces...”

“I can negotiate on our behalf,” said Lunafreya. “But you are right that nothing is certain.” 

Ignis glanced at Gladio and Prompto. Gladio was watching Lunafreya and Ravus carefully, paying no attention to him, but Prompto kept glancing in his direction, as though he wanted to say something. 

“We should really discuss this with Noctis present, if we’re making future plans,” said Ignis, by way of ending the conversation.

Ravus sighed. “Yes, you are right. I only hope he is able to speak with us tomorrow. If not...”

No one wanted to know how that sentence ended. Ravus just nodded and rose from his seat. Lunafreya rose with him.

“We will meet you here tomorrow,” she said, heading towards the door with him. “With any luck, Noctis will join us.”

“See you tomorrow,” Prompto called as they left. 

Then they were gone, and it was just the three of them, alone in the tent. 

“He’s still not telling us something, isn’t he?” asked Prompto. 

Gladio sighed and leant back in his seat. “I dunno. He seems cagey, but that might just be because he doesn’t want us to know how much it’s hurting him. He’s been weird about that in the past.” 

“You make a good point,” said Ignis, trying not to think back to his horror when he discovered the Starscourge. “Though you’d think he’d have learnt not to by now. We certainly wouldn’t condemn him for it.”

“Well we know that, Iggy,” he said, “but does Noct? It takes time to unlearn stuff like that. I’m more concerned that he refuses to stop. He’s going to hurt himself again.” 

“He’s not gonna let us stop him though,” mumbled Prompto. “Just like before—doesn’t matter whether or not we know what’s wrong. It’s like he’s already decided.” 

“We might be able to convince him to rest for a few days,” mused Ignis, but truthfully he thought it unlikely. 

Even Gladio raised his eyebrows. “Really Iggy? I’m betting the first thing he says once he gets in here tomorrow is that he wants to go to Altissia.”

“If he gets here,” said Ignis. 

“Hmm. Personally I’d prefer if we went back to Lucis. I haven’t heard anything from Iris since we left and this whole country’s a radio dead zone.”

“You could mention that to him,” said Prompto, hopefully. 

“Think he’d listen?” 

“He might do,” said Ignis. “He’s more likely to listen if you mention Iris.”

“Somehow I don’t think it’ll make him change plans. Accordo was about to get attacked even when we left. He’s gonna want to try and save it.”

“We don’t always have to do what he wants,” said Ignis, though he knew deep down Gladio would never abandon Noct’s side—not while he still felt he had to protect him. 

Sure enough, Gladio rolled his eyes. “Well, maybe Prompto here has that choice, but not us, Iggy.”

“I’m not gonna leave Noct either,” said Prompto, indignantly. 

“Not trying to say you had to, but the two of us have made oaths to stay by him.” 

“And I’m his best friend, and that’s basically just as good,” Prompto said stubbornly. 

Fortunately, Gladio seemed to take this well, because he chuckled. “Whatever you say.”

“I suppose we will have to wait until tomorrow to reach any sort of verdict,” said Ignis, already feeling grim again.

“Yeah,” said Gladio. “Who’s gonna wake Noct tomorrow and let him know?”

“I’ll do it,” said Ignis, before Prompto could get a word in. 

In truth, Ignis just wanted an opportunity to speak to Noctis on his own. He doubted his ability to get him to speak of what had been troubling him so deeply before, but even knowing he’d tried would be better than the endless parade of guilt marching around his head right now. 

“That settles it then,” said Gladio. “See you guys here tomorrow morning?”

“Tomorrow,” said Ignis.

“See ya,” said Prompto.

They each went their separate ways to get back to their tents this time, and Ignis was thankful for the space to think. 

For all Gladio had tried to be reassuring regarding Noct’s reasons for hiding whatever it was he was hiding, Ignis couldn’t help but suspect it was more than merely him being in pain. His magic acting up had, after all, begun some time ago, before his confrontation with Bahamut—and his quick assertion in their conversation that it was the Gods’ fault seemed almost _too_ quick for Ignis. As though he’d been afraid of them asking more. 

Now, as he walked back to his tent, he found himself wondering if this had anything to do with why Noct had been reluctant to tell them everything about the confrontation with Bahamut, and his breaking the Crystal. Gladio had said he’d been afraid of them blaming him. But why? 

There was a movement from one of the tents up ahead. 

Ignis took a step closer. It was still too light out for it to be a daemon, but...

A fluffy white object zoomed out from between the tents, whizzing around Ignis, and then making a tremendous noise, barking at him repeatedly. It was Pryna. 

She’d never come to him before, and Ignis found himself wondering if he might be dreaming, but then she got his trouser leg between her teeth and began trying to pull him forward, snapping him back to the real world. 

“Stop that!” he cried, trying to pry her off his trousers. “You’ll rip them!”

Pryna didn’t seem to care though, only pulling harder. 

“Fine, fine, I’ll follow you,” he said, trying to walk forward, and as he did, she let go, trotting along happily in front of him. 

Ignis could hear his heart beating in his chest. Were the Astral Messengers usually so rowdy? He couldn’t recall Umbra ever acting like this. But then, it was usually Noct who dealt with Umbra. Ignis had never really had a taste for dogs. 

Pryna appeared to be leading him exactly where he was heading anyway, towards his tent, and when they got there she quickly shuffled inside where the zip was left slightly open. Ignis rapidly followed her. With how excitable she’d been before, he wasn’t sure he trusted her not to wreck the inside—but once he got in, he saw that she was sitting peaceably in the centre of the room, as though she’d never try to drag someone by the trouser leg. 

“What is it?” he asked, feeling more than slightly exasperated. 

Pryna made no noise, just jerked her head back, as though she wanted him to come over. 

He glanced back at the opening of the tent, zipping it halfway down, before approaching Pryna. For a moment he just stared at her, then got the strange feeling that she wanted to be stroked on the head. He reached out his hand towards her, fingers brushing against her fluffy white fur. 

Something like a jet of ice surged through him, knocking the breath from his lungs, and he was no longer sitting in the tent—visions flashing before his eyes. 

Ardyn, his face blackened and half-formed, corrupted by the Starscourge. Noct, fighting him, beating him—the spires of Insomnia rising in the distance behind them, just as Noct struck the final blow. But that wasn’t the end. 

Now Noctis was sitting in the broken throne room, the darkness visible through the hole in the ceiling. His hand was clutched tight around his sword, and then—then—

One of the Kings struck Noctis with their weapon. All the breath seemed to escape his lungs at once. The blow _had_ to be deadly, but already another King was moving to strike—then another, then another—how could this be happening? Weren’t the Kings supposed to protect Noctis—weren’t they family? One, at least, was certainly family. But all the while King Regis stood by, motionless, making no move to save his son.

This couldn’t be happening. 

But then...just when it all seemed to be over, just when Ignis thought it couldn’t possibly get worse, Noctis reached out, and handed his father the sword. Ignis wanted to close his eyes, to block out what he was seeing, not wanting to believe what was happening before his very eyes—that the King could do something so terrible—he was supposed to _protect_ him! 

But then it was over.

The sword was real. Noctis was dead. 

Then he was back in the tent again, panting, his vision blurred, tears welling in his eyes. 

“This is the fate of your King,” hissed a voice in his ear, as though being blown on the wind. “But it is not decreed by the Prophecy. You can still save him, noble retainer. Follow the white dog when the time comes, and she will lead you to his salvation.” 

Then the cold and the voice and dog were all gone, and Ignis was alone in his tent, tears still rolling down his cheeks. 

He gave a few trembling gasps, trying to keep his breathing under control. That was how Noct had died? In the world he spoke of before? And now—how he planned to die again, here...soon. 

For some reason, right up until that moment, it hadn’t sunk in for Ignis that when Noctis said he was going to die that he actually meant _dead_. Killed by his own hand. By a sword embedded in his chest. 

He’d only seen it for a second; Noct’s gangling corpse slumped over the throne, but it was still enough for horrible nausea to begin rising in his stomach, making him feel ill and shaky. The idea that Noctis would die so _brutally_ , without any of them there, struck down by the blades of his ancestors and then his father...it was horrific. And he wanted to do that, to go through that again? That couldn’t be right, could it? Noct would never think that was necessary. 

Or at least, that was what Ignis hoped. The alternative was too horrible to contemplate. 

But...oh Six. 

He pushed himself tiredly onto his bed, leaning his elbows on his knees as he tried to ground himself in the present once more. That being, whatever it was, had said that if he followed Pryna she’d show him some way to save Noct, somehow. He looked up, but there was no sign of her in the tent. Perhaps it was only later that she’d reveal whatever secret method this was. 

But the vision he’d seen had still shaken him to the bone. Worse, since it was the future, it wasn’t like Ignis could do anything about it in the present moment. Even confronting Noct on it was a risky enough action on its own. There was a significant chance he wouldn’t want to talk about it, and if that was the case, well...he knew Noctis could get nasty when cornered. He didn’t think he’d ever try to hurt any of them, but with how emotional he’d been of late... There was a chance. 

But he needed to tell someone—even if it was only Gladio, of what he’d seen. They couldn’t let that happen to Noct. _He_ couldn’t let that happen to Noct. Even if Noct himself wanted it to. 

He lay back on his bed. 

His sleep was very uneasy that night. 

* * *

Light was shining in through the thin canvas of the tent, bringing Ignis back to wakefulness. He felt as though he’d barely slept at all, horrible visions floating around his head, behind his eyes. Had there been blood? He hadn’t seen it, but he’d felt it, smelt it in the air... But now was not the time for lingering on such things. 

For now, he had to wake Noct. And have a possibly very difficult chat with him.

The sun had barely risen over the horizon as Ignis stepped out of his tent. It was nice to see it again, all the same. There was something...rejuvenating about the dawn, and the pale blue light which soaked into the campsite, casting it in a very different light to before. 

Ignis saw now that the campsite was in fact very colourful, a fact which had been concealed by the choking darkness. Tents of all colours and sizes surrounded him, jutting into the sky—big ones, small ones, medium-sized ones, and there was the faint smell of burning on the air, as someone lit a campfire to cook breakfast. That was what he _should_ be doing. But this was no holiday they were on, and he still had a task to do. 

It was harder to navigate the campsite in the day, the light made everything look so different—but after much stumbling around and having to ask directions, he came to what he assumed to be Noct’s tent. There was no sign of movement from within.

“Noct?” he called from outside. 

There was no response. 

“I’m coming in.” 

He reached out and tugged the tent flap aside. As he’d expected, Noct was lying motionless in bed, so pale and still it’d be easy enough to mistake him for a corpse... This melancholy thinking was no good at all. He needed to snap himself out of it. 

As he got closer, it became clear that he was still breathing, which was something at least. 

He reached out and clasped Noct’s shoulder, shaking him slightly. “Noct?” 

Noct moved his head slightly, and raised his other arm, trying to bat Ignis away. 

“Noct, please, it’s high time you woke.” 

Noctis sighed deeply, sounding pretty exasperated for someone still half-asleep. “I’m awake,” he mumbled, shielding his eyes from the light. 

“You are expected to meet with everyone else in the main tent in just a few minutes.”

That made him spring upright. 

“What? Why didn’t you warn me?” he cried, practically leaping out of bed. 

Ignis just shook his head at Noct’s antics, not quite able to muster the energy to be amused. 

“Come on, let’s go,” said Noctis, grabbing him by the elbow and pushing him out of the tent, all sleepiness evidently left behind once he realised he might be late. 

Ignis might have found it funny if it hadn’t been so strangely different to the Noctis he’d known for so long. That was one thing that seemed to have been permanently changed by time. No longer was he the lethargic young man Ignis would have to drag to meetings—instead he had been replaced by this highly-strung, energetic person that drove himself almost to the point of collapse. He found himself wondering if the constant rush on Noctis’s part was due to the knowledge he didn’t have much time left to waste. 

It was a nasty thought, but it reminded him of what he wanted to ask. 

“Noct?” he said. 

“Yeah?” 

“I was thinking, in this world of yours from before, you were trapped in the Crystal, isn’t that right?” 

“Um, yeah,” said Noctis, staring at the floor as though he wasn’t keen on talking about it. “Ten years.” 

“But this time you escaped unscathed, and you believe this is because you already had the power of the Crystal.”

“Right,” said Noctis, staring at him suspiciously. “What about it?”

“You already possess the power you need to kill Ardyn, so perhaps...” There was no easy way to say the next part. “Perhaps it would not take your life to defeat him. That was all I was thinking.” 

Noctis gave a smile that wasn’t really a smile, and kept staring at the floor. “Ignis, I know this is hard—”

“You won’t even consider it?” The words were out before Ignis had even processed thinking them. 

Noctis blinked in surprise. “Well, I—”

“It’s true that I don’t know how these things work, but if there was even a chance—”

“Specs,” said Noctis, holding up his hands, “deep breaths.” 

He had been getting quite overexcited, hadn’t he? He gave a deep sigh. “I’m sorry, Noct. I just...can’t help but wonder...”

“I understand,” said Noctis, beginning to walk again. “If it were you I’d want to try and save you. It’s just...not that simple, I suppose.”

Ignis half-wanted to scream at Noct to just explain what was so complicated about him refusing to even look for ways not to die to save the world, but held his tongue. His emotions were getting the better of him. This wasn’t like him. 

“It is just...strange to me, that you wouldn’t even try to look for a solution,” he managed to spit out. 

“Is it?” 

Ignis turned to look at Noctis, who was still walking alongside him in the most casual manner. Other than the way his shoulders were tensed around his ears, of course. 

“With all due respect...yes, it is.”

A grim smile cracked across Noctis’s face. “I see.” 

“Is that all you have to say?”

“What else do you _want_ me to say? Should I tell you I’ve changed my mind? Seen the light? That you have my blessing to go searching for this pointless solution you’re so intent on looking for?” 

Ignis found himself actually glowering at Noctis, which felt so foreign it was unsettling, but just as he was about to snap at him, Noctis sighed, the melancholy amusement abruptly leaving his face. 

“Sorry,” he said, now much more subdued. “I don’t know why I said all that. I was being callous.” 

This was all so unlike him... “Yes. You were.”

“I just...” He didn’t seem to know how to finish. “No. There’s nothing else I can say. Sorry, I don’t think I’m ready to talk about this. Not yet.” 

Ignis sighed quietly, even though he knew where Noctis was coming from. “I understand, Noct. It was not my intention to pressure you.” 

Noctis gave a sad half-smile. “Right.” 

They walked the rest of the way in silence.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well—Ignis now knows how Noct died the first time, but that info is, uh, probably not as enlightening as he'd hoped it'd be. And of course, Noct's desire to die continues unabated—after all, he has no clue what Ignis has just seen. But the real question here is why Pryna would show him at all?
> 
> Thank you so much to everyone still reading, and I hope you enjoyed it! If so, please let me know!


	10. To the Sea

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Previously: In the aftermath of Noctis's fainting fit, the group decides to leave any discussion of future plans until tomorrow. On the way back to his tent, Ignis is distracted by Pryna, who gives him a vision of Noct's first death, accompanied by a voice which claims it can save Noct from this fate. Ignis attempts to discuss this with Noct the following day, but Noct shuts him down hard, apparently reluctant to speak of the issue.

It wasn’t long before they reached the main tent, black and white spires extending into the sky, though it looked a little less menacing in the sun. Not that that was doing much for Noctis’s mood though. First he had to go and almost pass out like that, then Ignis had to go and interrogate him about the whole dying thing. 

He was used to this sort of thing by now, of course. Or at least he ought to be. He’d faced many interrogations like this in the past—though he didn’t quite remember all of them, and they never seemed to end well for him. He just got...so defensive of the idea when they brought it up. He knew why, of course. Why they wouldn’t understand, would hesitate to trust him on the issue. It was never exactly easy to know someone was dying. 

By now he’d decided that that was what he was. And in this cycle it was even close to being true, what with the state his magic was in. After a while, it had become easier to think of his plight as a terminal illness rather than some great sacrifice. His time left tended to vary, it was true, but his life always finished the same way. Him. His sword. Life flickering out. It was perhaps more _sudden_ than your average terminal illness—but the end result was the same. There was no way out, anymore than there was some miraculous cure for a deadly cancer. Though it was invisible, and intangible, his time was still dwindling away. 

But the problem was that no one else ever seemed to see it that way. They all thought he was disturbed, committing suicide for no reason (as though the fate of Eos and everyone living on it was somehow less than his life). As though if he just bothered to look into it, they’d find some magical way out, and all would be well. Nevermind that living was already such a chore for him he felt death was in many ways vastly preferable. 

And of course, he did have a bit more insight than them with regards to what would happen afterwards. He knew there was some sort of afterlife, some Beyond after this—though his memories of that time were rather blurry and uncertain. It wasn’t a cessation of existence though, and once he was dead he’d be free of the Gods too (well mostly, anyway). In short, he felt they were making something of a big deal of it. 

But that didn’t make it any easier when they tried to discuss it with him. They were at two equal and opposite positions, and between them was a gap that could never be bridged with mere words. 

The irreconcilable difference between them, he’d always thought, was that they were alive, and he was dead. 

Dead in the sense that he _had_ died. Dead in the sense that he knew what it was like, the fears long gone, the _life_ already taken from him. His friends, bless their dear souls, wanted him to fight for the life he’d sacrificed nearly three hundred years ago, all images of that future lying buried and forgotten with his lifeless corpse sitting impaled on the throne. A future that meant nothing to him now. A future he hated and despaired to think about, for it reminded him that after so much pain and suffering, he might be subject to yet more. Death, however painful, was much better than that. 

But they didn’t understand that. How could they? They’d never died. 

Ravus and Luna were already there when they walked in. Funnily enough, neither of them looked like they’d gotten much sleep either. 

“Morning,” he said, slumping into the nearest chair.

“Morning,” they both responded in identical tones of exhaustion. 

“Rough night?” 

Luna glanced up at Ravus, who nodded. 

“Early morning,” she said, stifling a yawn and sitting up a bit straighter. “But it always is, for us.” 

“I’m sorry to hear you’re tired, Your Majesties,” said Ignis, who, despite clearly being similarly exhausted, was not taking a seat. 

“Sit down, Ignis,” said Noctis, pulling out a chair. “It’s been a long week.” 

“It’s been a long month,” muttered Ravus. 

“Was Leviathan really a month ago?” Noctis wondered aloud. It felt like years. 

“Less than that, I believe,” said Luna, blinking rapidly, clearly trying to keep herself awake. 

“Six...” 

The tent flap opened again behind him, and two more people wandered in.

“Hey,” said Gladio, far too loudly for Noctis’s tastes. “I see everyone’s up and ready.” 

“Wow, didn’t think I’d see you out of bed this early, Noct,” said Prompto, sitting down next to him. 

“Yeah, well, you have Specs to thank for that.” 

“I was obliged to wake you,” said Ignis, still sounding miserable. 

An awkward silence settled over them for a moment. 

Noctis had had far too much time to think already though, so he was the one who ended it. 

“So. Everyone’s awake, more or less. Plans.” 

Luna took a long sip of tea before replying. “Our plans are to remain here and assist our people with settling back into the city, as well as preparing for the impending assault by the Gods. I would ask you to remain in case we are attacked by daemons again, but I suspect you have plans of your own, am I right?” 

Noctis stared guiltily at the table. “Well, yeah. We still need to check out what’s going on with Accordo and Lucis. But we’re only a phone call away if you have trouble again.” 

“Tenebrae’s a radio dead zone,” said Gladio and Ravus in unison, before glaring at each other. 

“Right..?” Noctis asked hesitantly. 

“I tried to call Iris as soon as we left Gralea,” said Gladio. “No signal.” 

“If we wish to contact you it will have to be by letter,” said Ravus. “Of course, by the time it reached you...” 

“The city will have been wrecked. Again,” Noctis finished for him. “Right, sorry.” 

“You’ve no obligation to stay here, Noctis,” said Luna. “I appreciate you have duties and a Kingdom of your own to attend to. I merely ask that you do not delay your action too long. We do not know when the Gods will choose to strike.” 

And when they did...the destruction would be unimaginable. Noctis found himself wondering whether or not they could requisition an airship to get to Accordo more quickly. 

“We’ll go as quickly as possible,” he said. 

“If you are headed for Altissia,” said Ravus, “then the Commodore is already there. No doubt she’d be grateful for any assistance you could offer her.” 

“Right.” 

“That’s the plan then?” asked Gladio. “Head for Altissia, see what we can do, then head for Lucis?” 

“That’s how we’ll get the most people,” said Noctis. 

“And how we’ll _help_ the most people,” said Prompto, which was an important point. 

Ignis still looked reluctant though. “Are we sure it’s wise to head in so quickly when we’ve not yet discovered the cause of the difficulties with your magic?”

Right. He’d been hoping they’d forget about that. 

“It’s fine,” he said lightly. “I’ll just...try not to use magic while we’re there. That way it won’t blow up.”

“That’s...not a very comprehensive plan,” said Prompto.

“Well, I dunno what else to do, since I don’t know what’s causing it.” 

Lies. But if they knew would that help? _He_ knew and there was still nothing...nothing he could do. Just wait. And hope it would take longer to consume him than it seemed. Once his magic started ripping holes in reality—then he would worry. For now it was under control. He just had to watch. Carefully. 

Gladio gave a long sigh. “Much as I hate to admit it, you have a point. Can’t really do anything if we don’t know why it’s happening.” 

“Perhaps you should try training without using your magic?” suggested Ignis. 

Noctis shook his head. “We don’t have weeks to sit around here and wait for me to develop a new fighting style. I’ll just be more careful.” 

“Does using the Armiger count as magic?” asked Prompto. 

“Yep.”

“Damn.”

“How are you intending to leave the city?” asked Ravus, providing a welcome distraction. “The last of the airships was taken by Aranea, and none of the trains are running for obvious reasons.” 

“We’ll go by boat,” said Noctis, not sure why they were making such an issue of it.

Luna and Ravus exchanged another look. “Where do you intend to find one?” she asked. “The Capital is miles away from the sea, and I imagine most of the sailors will have abandoned the ports by now. There are many tales of daemons rising up from the ocean—I doubt they would want to risk a voyage in this tense climate.”

Okay, maybe that was going to be a problem. 

“We can always walk there,” said Noctis, thinking aloud. “Now the sun’s up it wouldn’t be so dangerous. And if no one’s there, then...I guess we’ll just have to figure it out ourselves.”

“You make it sound so easy,” said Prompto, nervously. 

Noctis shrugged his shoulders in exasperation. “Of course it’s not going to be easy, but if you’ve got any other ideas, please, tell me.”

“Unfortunately, with no other help available, going by boat may be your most reasonable option,” said Luna, staring at the floor. 

No one seemed happy about it, but with things as they were they didn’t have much choice. 

“With Umbra gone it’ll be hard for us to stay in contact,” said Noctis, though he was unwilling to acknowledge it. “I wish you all the best here, and we’ll come back as soon as we can.”

“We’ll attempt to rebuild the city and prepare people as best we can,” said Luna. “And Noctis?”

“Yeah?”

“Even if you are immortal, please don’t be too reckless.”

He gave a half-smile. “I won’t.”

Even as he said it, he knew it was a promise he couldn’t keep. 

As he went back outside, he noticed how high the sun was in the sky. They hadn’t been in there for long. Tenebrae may have been restored to light once more, but the days were still shorter than they should be. 

“Let’s get moving,” he said, without waiting for a response from the others. “We don’t have much time to waste.”

* * *

They’d been walking for hours, and finally, through the boughs of the trees, a great blue expanse emerged below them, as the ocean finally rose into view. 

The sun was low on the horizon now, the world beginning to go orange and red in its dying rays, and Noctis was relieved they’d managed to reach the shoreline before dark. He wasn’t sure they’d make it. 

“This it?” asked Gladio, drawing alongside him. 

The seafront of Tenebrae was relatively untouched by the kind of tourist towns that encircled Lucis. Below them lay a wide stretch of white, pebbled sand, with only a few piers extending out into the sea, and even fewer prospective establishments that might lend them a boat. He was in no position to give up, however. Even if they couldn’t find a boat, they still needed shelter for the night.

“Looks like it. Let’s go down, there might still be someone about.”

“Somehow, I doubt it,” said Prompto. 

The wind blew fierce off the waves once they left the shelter of the forest, buffeting them as they made their way down to the shore, threatening to rip Noctis’s jacket right from his shoulders. He really hoped they’d have modern ships here and not just sailing boats, because if they did, they’d never make it away from the shore. 

He was headed to the nearest establishment he could see, a small wooden hut perched on the break between sand and soil. But as he approached, something made him pause. 

He’d written off Prompto’s statement before as cynicism, but now they were actually out on the exposed waterfront, the silence made him stop in his tracks. It was possible, of course, that the people who lived here were merely sheltering inside—that was the sensible thing to do in a daemon outbreak after all. But something told him it was more than that. Worse than that. 

It was too light for there to be any daemons out. But there was menace in the air. 

“Everything okay?” asked Gladio. 

Noctis realised he’d stopped dead, staring at the hut.

“Fine,” he said, shaking himself. “Let’s just be careful as we go in, yeah?” 

“If you say so.” 

As they approached the hut, the sense of impending doom only grew worse. He’d been right—there was definitely something wrong with this place, but he couldn’t quite put his finger on what it was. That was, until Ignis grabbed him by the shoulder, pulling him back.

“Hey, what the hell—” he began, but cut himself off as he saw what had made Ignis pull him back. 

Lying in front of him, just where he’d been about to tread, was a large, sharp piece of wood, sticking up through the sand. He hadn’t seen it, so intent on getting towards the hut. 

“Where d’you think it came from?” asked Prompto, staring at it. 

“It’s not the only one,” said Gladio. “Look.” 

He pointed to another piece in the sand, then another. The tight knot of apprehension in Noctis’s chest grew even tighter. 

“Hey, is that someone over there?” asked Prompto, pointing ahead, to the hut’s entrance. 

Now they were a bit closer, it was clear the hut seemed to have no door, which unfortunately ruled out any notion of staying there overnight. Of people, though, he saw no sign. 

“What do you mean?” he asked. “I don’t see anything.”

“There’s clothes—right by the entrance.”

Noctis squinted. Prompto was right. 

They weren’t normal clothes though, left out to dry while the owner was out. They lay crumpled on the floor in a little heap, and even from where Noctis was standing, they looked too small to be the clothes of an adult. 

“No,” he said, “something’s wrong here.” 

“I agree,” said Ignis. “There is something very off about all of this. Why would the residents abandon their home?” 

“Well perhaps no one actually lives there,” said Prompto. “I mean, there’s no door or anything.”

“I wouldn’t be so sure about that.” Gladio was standing about a foot away from them, looking at another large piece of wood, embedded in the sand. “Come take a look at this.” 

Jogging over, Noctis thought he felt a distinct chill on the air, and when his gaze alighted on the wood, he was pretty sure he knew why. 

This was no piece of driftwood, thrown ashore by the tide and blown into the sand by the wind. It was sturdy—manufactured—and along the length of it, in a distinctive pattern, were long, deep claw-marks. This was part of the door missing from the hut in front of them. Suddenly, the little pile of clothes by the entrance became nauseating for him to look at. 

“What do you think happened?” asked Prompto, though his voice was trembling. 

“Daemons,” said Noctis. 

“I’ve never known daemons to tear down people’s doors,” said Ignis. 

“You’ve never known eternal night,” said Noctis, feeling sick to his stomach. “The daemons aren’t like normal ones, they don’t flinch away from a little lamplight.” He finally managed to put his gaze away from the hut, and the clothes. “The people here didn’t stand a chance.” 

No one seemed to know quite what to say to that. Which was just as well because Noctis didn’t know what else to tell them. 

“Will there be any bodies?” asked Prompto. His face had taken on a grim, tired look. “Should we bury them?” 

Noctis gave him a tight smile. “It’s a nice thought, but no. There’s nothing left of them now. Just...” He stared at the clothes lying in the entrance.

“Doesn’t really feel right to just leave them there,” said Gladio. 

“Their friends and family may want to see them,” Ignis pointed out. “They’ve no other way of knowing what happened, after all.”

“Think they’ve got any?” asked Gladio. 

Noctis looked around the shore. It’s emptiness now seemed sinister rather than idyllic. “If they have, they’ve not come looking yet.”

“It has only been a day since the sun rose,” said Ignis. “There’s still a chance they’ll come looking.”

“I’ll write to Luna about it,” said Noctis. “See if she can turn anything up.”

That seemed to settle the matter, though everyone was still ill-at-ease. 

“Think the daemons will have torn up the boats too?” asked Gladio, staring out along the pier, just ahead of them. 

“If they have, they’re pretty dedicated,” said Noctis, though truthfully he was wondering the same thing. “Only one way to find out.”

They made their way across the sand towards the pier in silence. Noctis couldn’t help but think, as his shoes sank into the sand and the wind blew into his face, how difficult it would be to try and fight on this sort of terrain. How helpless they must have been, when the daemons came clamouring to the door...

Most of the pier was concealed by a large wooden boathouse, blocking any potential vessels from view. Noctis had to admit that by the state of the settlement, he wasn’t too hopeful of finding a vessel with a motor. 

It was a surprise, therefore, when Prompto ran ahead of them to look inside, and gave a yell. 

“What is it?” he called.

“They have one!” cried Prompto. “They have a boat—a proper boat!”

Noctis couldn’t quite believe it himself, so he rushed over to where Prompto was to get a look. It was true. The boat wasn’t quite as large as the one that had taken them to Altissia, and it looked rather old and worn-out, but it was still floating, and it didn’t have any huge gashes in its side, which boded well. 

“Perhaps our luck’s turning around,” said Gladio, with a rather tense smile.

“It’d be about time,” sighed Ignis. 

“Do you know how to drive a boat?” asked Noctis, turning to him. “I mean, I know Cid did it last time, but—”

“I am aware of how to steer such vehicles,” said Ignis. “Though I admit, this one is rather older than the boats I am used to.” 

“No choice but to try,” said Gladio, stepping onto it. It didn’t sink into the water at all, which was something, at least. 

“I suppose you are right,” said Ignis, joining him on the boat. “We’ll need somewhere to shelter for the night anyway.”

As he stepped aboard himself, along with Prompto, Noctis could tell Ignis was right about its age. The seats were slightly discoloured, stained by all the wear and tear out on the open ocean, and there was the distinct sense of a vessel past its prime. He wandered to the edge of the boat, the end facing the sea. The water stretched out, seemingly endless ahead of them, but there were dark clouds on the horizon. 

“Think there’ll be a storm?” asked Prompto, popping up next to him. 

The dark shapes swirled above the water, turned a deep red in the light of the setting sun. 

“Let’s hope not,” he said. 

He had a feeling that if there was, it would be worse than they could imagine.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're slowing down a bit in this chapter as Noct contemplates the position he's gotten himself into. Pretty strange for him knowing there's an afterlife—and even kind of what it's like, but unable to really describe it to anyone to reassure them about why he's so intent on dying. But how long he'll be able to continue to keep all that to himself is definitely up for debate.
> 
> Thank you to everyone still reading, and I hope you enjoyed this chapter! If so, please let me know!


	11. The Storm

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Previously: Noctis, Ignis, Prompto and Gladio discuss their plans for the future with Luna and Ravus, and decide to leave for Altissia. They manage to find a boat on one of Tenebrae's shores, but a storm looms on the horizon.

Noctis was soaked to the bone. The rain was lashing down with a fury and horror that was almost paralysing in its rage. His fingers slipped from the door handle as he tried to stop himself being flung across the length of the ship, and his hands could barely grip the sodden metal as they shivered uncontrollably. 

“We still have it under control!” cried Gladio, barely audible over the immense noise of the storm. 

Noctis couldn’t help but doubt that. 

Thunder crackled overhead as the boat lurched wildly, dislodging his grip and sending him sliding across the deck, colliding with the side of the boat with a nasty _thump_. 

“You alright, Noct?” called Prompto from somewhere above him. 

“I think so,” shouted Noctis. 

He wasn’t sure his voice could be heard against the crashing of the waves against the boat, and the rain pounding down on them. 

“Try to keep hold something!” cried Ignis, as he went running by Noctis. 

He tried to find something to hold onto, but even as he went reaching for the railing just a few feet away from him, another wave went crashing over the side of the ship, sending him spinning to the floor. He was unpleasantly remembered of his confrontation with Leviathan as he tried vainly to pick himself up, his shoes slipping and sliding beneath him. Then, just as he thought he was about to get his footing again, another wave crashed over him and he felt himself being lifted from the deck. 

The still vaguely conscious part of his mind was aware this was bad. It got even worse when he felt himself falling—and hitting more water. He’d been washed into the sea. This was really, _really_ bad. 

His heart was thundering so hard he it drowned out the waves crashing around him. The cold soaked into his bones, he was aware of the desperate need to breathe, the surface seemed to be getting further and further away. No! He surged into action, forcing his limbs to move, fighting desperately to get back to the surface. He was _not_ going to drown here!

He felt as though he was wrestling with the water, being buffeted and pushed underneath, but then—then his head broke the surface, he gave a great gasp—

“Noct!” The voice was extremely faint. 

He opened his mouth to call back, but water splashed over his head, leaving him spluttering. He tried to swim towards the ship, the waves pushing and pushing him back, and then—

Something collided with the back of his head. Blackness came creeping in, he felt himself sinking, falling, floating—no, no if he passed out now he would drown—no—

_Chosen King._

Noctis tried to gasp out ‘Gentiana’ but his mouth was filled with water. 

_You are in great peril._

The water was pressing in, robbing him of sight, of breath—

_You must fight._

But how? He couldn’t...

_A great power lies within you. Reach for it. Draw on it. Use it to live._

But he couldn’t just grasp it and use it! That wasn’t how it worked!

_Noctis!_

A white figure stood before him, not Gentiana—Luna? No, not her either. Who—

A burning fire surged through his bones. 

His power was awake. 

It was time. 

Water. What was water to a being such as him? Ice exploded from his fingers, pushing out, consuming him. He was standing on solid ground again, encased in a circle of solid ice. Magical energy surged through him like an electric current. He could do this. 

All at once he was rocketing through the surface of the water, flying high into the sky as his powers propelled him upwards. Ice splintered and cracked around him. The thirteen blades manifested, broken from the power of the Gods, ceded to him and him alone. He was a shining beacon of light in the storm-darkened sky—he could see it—lancing out from under his skin. Rarely had he felt so much power. 

But that was enough of that, for now. There was a reason he’d done this, after all. He still needed to save his friends. 

The boat was tossing and turning over the water, swept this way and that by the ferocious waves. They were getting worse too—the whole thing might capsize if he didn’t do something soon. He knew who was doing this though, and over that deity at least, he still had power. 

“Fulgurian!” he cried in a voice no longer quite his own. “Face me!” 

A thunderbolt went sparking down towards him, missing him by mere inches. In the afterglow of its light was the colossal being of Ramuh, staring down at him, his expression hard and unyielding. 

“End this storm,” Noctis demanded, not even stopping to think about whether he was equal enough to say so. 

“This cannot be done.” 

Ramuh’s expression didn’t change even slightly. He was unreadable. 

“Why?” 

“It is the way of Nature. Such things cannot be changed upon a whim.”

A surge of anger shot through him. “They’ll die down there if you don’t stop this!” 

“It is not for any of us to decide such things.” 

“I think you’ll find Bahamut disagrees.”

Ramuh’s expression became reproving. “The Draconian is the guardian of the Beyond. It is his duty.”

“Is it his ‘duty’ to kill all of humanity just to spite me?” hissed Noctis.

Ramuh only frowned deeper still. “Such a thing would be a crime even in the eyes of the great Eos Herself.”

“Then help me!” pleaded Noctis. “I need them alive to do this. Please, stop this storm.”

There was a pause that seemed to last for years as Ramuh stared at him, his piercing yellow eyes seeming to stare right through him, flashing like the lightning streaking through the sky. 

Then, as suddenly as they’d come, clouds overhead parted, and though it didn’t stop raining, the sea once more became still. 

“Thank you,” breathed Noctis. 

“This will not be the end, Chosen King. If he speaks the truth of the Draconian’s plan, the guardian of the Beyond will hunt him down.”

“I know.” 

Ramuh faded from sight, and as he did, the energy faded from Noctis’s limbs. Wait, no, he was still so high in the air—

He went straight into freefall as his magic gave out completely, and no matter how hard he tried to pull it from inside, there was just an empty hollow in his chest. No, no, no, no, _no_ —

For one second he felt his body impact forcefully against the deck of the ship. Then he felt nothing at all. 

* * *

“If the High Messenger might be forgiven for saying so, the King ought to take more caution as to the preservation of his life.”

Noctis groaned as he began to come to again. Usually he was relatively free of pain in this world. Obviously he’d caused himself enough injury that that was not the case this time. He forced himself into a sitting position, then rested his head on his knees. 

“It’s not like it really matters,” he sighed, willing his head to stop spinning so wildly. “I’m not gonna die.” 

Gentiana made a sound that was suspiciously close to a disappointed sigh. “Nevertheless, the price of half-death is not nonexistent. The King will be weaker, when he wakes.” 

She was right, of course, but that didn’t mean he wanted to hear it. He lifted his head from his knees, and pushed himself to his feet. “Is it gonna get worse every time?”

“Not indefinitely,” said Gentiana, watching him carefully. “But the unstable nature of the King’s magic would render testing this unwise.”

“So it would immobilise me eventually.”

“The Messenger finds this likely.”

Noctis gave a short sigh. The warm breeze ruffled his hair. “Gonna have to be more careful then.” 

Gentiana’s expression remained unmoved, though he could somehow tell she was unhappy. 

“What is it?” he asked. 

She blinked, tilting her head. “To what is the King referring to?”

“You seem sad.”

Gentiana frowned. “Messengers do not possess these emotions as humans do. Her concern lies with Eos.”

“Is something wrong?”

“Not wrong.” Gentiana paused. “But different. Something is shifting upon the star.”

“Is that why Ramuh attacked us?”

“He did not attack. He was merely carrying out his duty as a protector of the star. Sometimes the oceans need storms, and the air of Tenebrae must be cleansed after its ordeal.”

“So that’s why...” murmured Noctis. 

“Not all of the Six will have yet heard of the Draconian’s decision. Even now he sends the Glacian as his Messenger, trying to draw them from you.”

Altissia...

“You think Leviathan will already have turned by the time we get there?”

“No,” said Gentiana, “but it would be wise to exercise caution.”

Noctis sighed. “Thanks for the warning.”

There was a lull in conversation, the blazing sun casting a soft warmth on the land below. It was so quiet here. 

“Is this real?” he wondered aloud.

“Real?”

“A real place. Like, it exists...somewhere.” 

“The King is here. The Messenger is here. Why would it be false?” 

Noctis shook his head. “I dunno. It seems too perfect. Too peaceful.”

Gentiana gave a gentle smile. “Peace can look strange to those whose minds are filled with war.”

Noctis stared at her. He wanted to retaliate, to tell her off for her assumption. But he couldn’t. After all, she was right. 

“I can’t live down there,” he said suddenly, unsure why, the words spilling out of their own accord. “It doesn’t seem right, after...everything.”

“The King wishes to rest,” said Gentiana, peaceably. “Is this so strange?”

“No, it’s just... I suppose most people don’t see death that way.”

“What is death but the final rest of man?” 

Noctis snorted. “Yeah, it sounds easy when you say it like that, but—”

“It is a concept not easily explained to his companions.”

“Right.” 

Gentiana cast her gaze to the floor for a moment, a mild frown crossing her brow. “It is true it is a concept hard for humans to understand. The Messenger has observed this herself. They rarely comprehend what existence after death might be. The King has had a unique experience in this regard.”

“I guess so.”

A chill wind blew at his back. There were dark clouds looming in the distance. 

“Looks like it’s time for me to go,” he said. 

“The Messenger hopes it will be some time before he returns.”

So...tired... “Don’t worry... It will...”

* * *

Noctis awoke to the distinct sensation of having being hit by train. And he ought to know. It had happened before. 

“You waking up?” asked a tight voice to his right.

“I’d rather not,” mumbled Noctis, though doing so made his head hurt.

Gladio gave a chuckle. “Tough, the others won’t let you go back to sleep now.”

“Must it always be this way?” he asked, forcing his eyes open, in spite of the pain of the light. “Will there be a day when I can just have a lie in?” 

Gladio’s face manifested somewhere above him. “You’ve been out for about forty-eight hours,” he snorted. “I’d say that’s enough.” 

“Really?” asked Noctis, trying to force himself upright. 

“Hey, don’t strain yourself,” said Gladio, placing a large hand on his arm. “You got really battered by that fall, we don’t want you to get injured any worse.” 

“I guess,” he sighed, leaning back onto the pillows. 

“Wait there, I’ll go tell the other two you’re awake.”

Noctis rolled his eyes. “Fine.” 

It wasn’t like he could go anywhere anyway. He was stuck on the ship now. 

Gladio disappeared out of the room, and Noctis tried to work out where he had been ‘battered’ the worst, as Gladio would say. The answer seemed to lie solidly on his head, because whenever he tried to move it, he got a terrible ache in the back of his skull. He strongly suspected that were it not for Bahamut’s irritating intervention he really would have died from that fall. 

Oh well. It wasn’t like he could do anything about it now. And the others were still alive—that was the important thing.

It wasn’t long before the door burst open again, and Prompto was leaping to his side, worry and relief written all over his face. 

“Noct—you’re awake! How are you feeling? What happened back there?” 

“Slow down, Prompto,” said Ignis walking in behind him. “Let him get his breath back first.”

Noctis was thankful for the intervention—all those questions were making his head go spinning. 

“You got pretty roughed up by that fall,” said Gladio, taking his seat to Noctis’s right again. “It’s a miracle you’re awake at all.”

“Ha, yeah...not sure that’s a coincidence.” He had told them before about not being able to die, but…well. It probably took time for information like that to sink in. 

“You believe that the Gods intervened on your behalf again?” asked Ignis, face marred by a frown. 

“I _have_ been falling a lot lately,” he said, off-handedly. “Maybe they were waiting for it. But yeah, I’m pretty sure. I woke up in the same place again and everything.” 

“You saw Gentiana?” asked Gladio. 

“Yep.”

“What are her thoughts on all of this?” asked Ignis. 

What they had actually spoken about might be awkward to mention, but he could always make something up. “She just said that Eos is watching over me. You know, the usual cryptic stuff.”

“Helpful,” muttered Gladio. 

“Least you’re okay,” said Prompto. “We were pretty worried when you wouldn’t wake up.”

“We’re lucky it was only two days instead of the usual three,” said Ignis, reprovingly. 

Had he been a few years younger Noctis might have felt a stab of guilt, but now he was just exasperated. 

“I assume the storm blew over then?” he said, eager to change the subject.

“Yeah,” snorted Gladio, “after whatever the hell it was you did out there, it stopped pretty quickly. What _did_ happen, by the way? It was kinda hard for us to see.” 

“Oh, um—I had a chat, let’s say, with Ramuh. Convinced him to call off the storm.” 

“Ramuh sent the storm?” asked Prompto, alarmed. 

“Ramuh sends all the storms, Prompto, come on, don’t you remember from class?” Noctis asked teasingly. 

“But that was ages ago,” whined Prompto. 

Well that was hardly an excuse. It had been almost three hundred years ago for Noctis, but _he_ still remembered. 

“So you managed to convince him then?” asked Gladio, and he looked genuinely impressed. A flash of pride went through Noctis—now that was a strange feeling after everything else. 

“Yeah, pretty much,” he said, trying not to sound too pleased with himself. “It did, uh, take a bit out of me though,” he admitted sheepishly. “Hence the whole falling out of the sky thing.” 

“We’re just glad you’re safe, Noct,” said Ignis, with a weary smile. “You do know how to worry us.”

“Hey, that’s part of my job.”

“No it’s not,” said Gladio, giving him a light shove. “We’re almost there now anyway, so you can quit scaring us half to death on ships.”

Noctis couldn’t help but chuckle at that. “Yeah, guess I have a lousy track record with that, huh?”

“Just don’t make too much of a habit out of it,” sighed Ignis. 

“I won’t!” 

Not deliberately, anyway. There wasn’t much he could do if another storm mysteriously tried to wreck them out of nowhere. But there were more important things to be worrying about. 

He pushed himself properly upright, causing Ignis to wince a bit. “Hey, I’ve gotta get up sometime.” 

Ignis begrudgingly nodded. His legs felt way too heavy—but that was just something he was going to have to deal with for now. Besides, he’d been through worse. Much worse. 

“Do you need any help to get out?” asked Prompto, his brow furrowed as Noctis steadied himself on his feet. 

“I think I’ll be okay.” 

Gladio gave a frown as Noctis began heading towards the door. “Oh, and just so you’re prepared—things are looking pretty nasty out there.”

That didn’t sound good. “Nasty in what way?” 

“Nasty as in MTs.”

“And daemons,” added Prompto. 

“And daemons.” 

He’d hoped they might be able to do more to help Altissia before they left, but now the time for that had long since passed. Hopefully most of the citizens had been evacuated before the daemons arrived. Somehow he doubted it. 

Either way, it was going to be bad. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Gods are really not on Noct's side for this one! Even accidentally they're still causing trouble. Any theories as to who our mysterious figure is in this chapter?
> 
> Thank you to everyone still reading, and I hope you enjoyed this chapter! If so, please let me know.


	12. Failure

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Previously: Noct and his friends are caught in a fierce storm as they travel to Altissia. Noct is swept off the boat, but a strange voice compels him to use his powers to barter with Ramuh and end the storm. He does, but knocks himself unconscious once again. When he wakes, they're just outside Altissia.

Black smoke billowed over the ruined skyline of Altissia. A dim light from the setting sun illuminated the city in its dying glow, a grim omen of what was happening within. Noctis got the feeling if they didn’t succeed here the sun might not rise again on Altissia for a long time. In places across the city the darkness brewing overhead was chased away by light—light from buildings still burning in the chaos. Noctis had seen Altissia in this state before, but that didn’t make seeing it again any less unsettling.

“Can’t say we didn’t warn you,” sighed Gladio, coming up behind him. 

Noctis sighed deeply. He’d hoped he’d spared Altissia this fate this time. Of course, he hadn’t known back then—not properly, anyway. Though that was small comfort knowing how many people had probably died to the growing darkness already. 

“Looks pretty bad out there,” he said, stating the obvious. “Gonna be a job to save it.” 

‘Job’ barely covered it. A small part of him was calling out that he was looking at something past the point of saving. He ignored that part. He’d come back to help people, and help was what he was going to damn well do. Especially now he knew he couldn’t die. There was no excuse for negligence this time. 

“Where do you think we ought to dock, Noctis?” asked Ignis, his voice startling Noctis out of his reverie.

Right, to help people they had to actually land first. This was going to be interesting. 

“If there’s anywhere that doesn’t look like it’s on fire, head over there,” said Noctis.

He knew even as he said it that there were a dismayingly small amount of areas he could see matching that description. The little voice grew louder. He mentally told it to shut up. 

“Noted,” said Ignis, before retreating. 

“You up to this?” asked Gladio. “You’ve been out for a long time. I know that’s never stopped you before, but if you need to rely on us for a bit, we aren’t gonna call foul on you.” 

“I may need more help,” said Noctis, though he said it more to appease Gladio than out of any genuine feeling. “I’m more worried at how we’re gonna handle this strategically. There’s a lot of destruction going on down there. It’s going to be hard to deal with.”

“I agree. But we won’t let that stop us.” 

Noctis gave a small smile. “We sure won’t.” 

* * *

The smell of burning was thick in the air as they finally set foot on the city of water again. In the distance he could hear yelling, and the sound of metal clashing on metal. Things were in full swing. 

“So, what’s the plan?” asked Prompto. 

His usual nervousness seemed to have been replaced by a veneer of calm. Part of Noctis hated that being associated with him had hardened his friends so quickly. The other part was just glad Prompto seemed ready for this. It wasn’t going to be easy. 

“First let’s try and find Aranea,” he said. “She’ll have gotten a better read on the situation than us by now. We’ll do whatever we can to help her.”

“Oh, I’m up for that!” grinned Prompto. 

“Lead the way, Noct,” said Ignis. 

Bold of them to assume he had any better idea of where Aranea was than they did, but he supposed someone needed to lead them. It may as well be him. He was supposed to be King for some reason, after all. 

The explosions from a few streets away were steadily getting louder. That was probably as good a place to start as any. They ducked and weaved between buildings, the sound of the conflict getting louder and louder the closer they got. Just as Noctis was sure they must almost be close enough to see the fighting, there was an immense _boom_ from overhead, and Noctis saw fire spreading above them.

And what went up must come down. 

“Noct?” cried Prompto as he spotted the flames. 

Noctis reacted without even thinking about it. Scorching metal bounced off the barrier he’d conjured, his hands outstretched as the magic crackled in his fingers. 

“I think it’s over,” said Ignis, quietly. 

Well, that may be true, but convincing his instincts of the same thing would be a difficult matter. He could hear his heart in his chest. He tried to pull down the barrier, to let the magic go—but it wasn’t working. His heart was getting faster. No, this was _not_ the time to panic. He’d had his magic play up before. This was nothing. He could do this. He breathed deeply—all he had to do was let go. 

Let go. 

Let _go!_

Searing pain surged through his hands as the barrier came crashing down, the magic flaring out, as though angry at being forced. 

“You okay, Noct?” asked Gladio. 

“It’s okay,” he breathed. “Just had a moment there.” 

Gladio didn’t look like he believed him, but clearly knew better than to ask at this point. Good. They were on a mission. 

“Let’s go.”

Another crackling fireball soared overhead as Noctis and the others emerged into the square. It was chaos. There were heaps of twisted metal lying all over the pavement—some from the MTs, others from the wreckage of the buildings lining the former marketplace. Flames licked threateningly at the walls, the smell of smoke almost overpowering. 

There didn’t appear to be anyone around—the people that once made this their home had either fled, or were buried somewhere in the rubble. Noctis tried to ignore the nausea forming in his stomach. 

A metallic clang sounded overhead, and Noctis leapt backwards—just in time it seemed, because the next moment two figures went hurtling towards the ground, locked in combat. 

One was an extremely battered MT, screaming and fighting with all the strength left in its limbs, the other, a tall, impressive-looking woman—a woman he recognised.

“Aranea?” 

She turned to look at him just as she finally drove her spear through the space between the MTs shoulder-plate and helmet, causing it to give one last guttural scream. 

“Took you long enough to turn up, you worthless ass!” she cried, only just making her voice heard over the chaotic sound of warfare across the city. “You’re too late—there’s no helping this place. The Imperials have a stranglehold here, and soon the daemons will be coming out too—we need to evacuate people.” 

“Where are they gathering?” 

“They _aren’t_ , that’s the trouble! There’s no ‘gather here in case your country is invaded’ sign! They’re everywhere. I’ve had my boys looking but we can’t catch everyone, and it’s a nightmare trying to find people while the MTs are constantly sneaking up on us.” 

“We’ll try to help—”

“You’d better do more than _try_ if you’re going to be of any use to me,” said Aranea, her eyes narrowing to slits inside her helmet. 

“Right,” said Noctis, equally determined. She was right, after all—there would be no second chances for the people here. 

“We don’t know where the people are, but we do know where we have the boats hidden,” she continued. “They’re on the far north side of the city—the moment you get enough people on board, tell ‘em to get headed towards Lucis. That’s the only place left that’s safe by my reckoning.” 

“Got it.” 

Lucis being the safe country to live in? Now that was a new one. 

“Alright then, stop loitering around here,” said Aranea, waving them away. “There are more forces incoming, and it’s useless to fight them unless you have to, you hear me? Focus on the people.” 

“We understand, Commodore,” said Ignis. 

“Good. Now shove off.”

Noctis nodded and began walking away, though where to he still wasn’t quite sure. 

“Where are we going, Noct?” asked Prompto, apparently thinking the same thing he was. 

“Not sure, where do you people will have gone to for shelter, Specs?” 

Ignis pushed his glasses a little further up his nose, though they were being clouded by all the smoke in the air. “I imagine they’ll have gathered under the city’s bridges, along the waterways—there’s a less likely chance the MTs or daemons will spot them while hidden down there.”

“Lot of bridges here, Iggy,” said Gladio, frowning. 

“Indeed. What’s the plan, Noct?” 

Though Ignis had been polite enough to ask, Noctis was pretty sure he’d already clocked on to what it was. 

“To get the most people out of here we’ll have to split up,” he said. “We can each take a district of the city. Aranea’s covering the north side, but it sounds like she needs help, Prompto, you get on that.”

“Will do,” said Prompto, with a fake salute. 

“Ignis, Gladio, you take east and west.” They both nodded. “I’ll deal with the south.”

“Noct, are you absolutely sure you can—” Ignis began.

“I can do this,” he said. 

The south would be where Niflheim’s forces were coming from, it provided the easiest access to the city from the air. He was going to take the invasion head-on. After all, fighting was one thing he _could_ do. 

“Alright,” said Ignis, though he still looked hesitant. “No unnecessary risks please, from any of you.” He gave Noctis a particularly hard stare. “Let us be on our way.”

Noctis waited until all the others had disappeared from sight to warp himself up to the roof. Thankfully that was one thing that was still working properly. He surveyed the city from above. 

Fire was crackling in several places across the city, but the canals prevented it from spreading too far on its own. An entire section seemed to have been levelled towards the south-east, and far to the south he could see a mass of airships gathering in the distance. That was where he needed to go. Picking up the Ultima Blade, he tossed lightly in the air, then threw it as hard as he could over the roofs of Altissia, landing hard on the tiles. It was a familiar procedure by now, and once he felt sure his magic wasn’t going to fail him, he was practically flying across the city skyline, zipping through the air with a speed he could once only have dreamt of. 

If one good thing had come of all the chaos surrounding his powers, it was that his stamina had been vastly improved when it wasn’t going haywire. Having so much magic explode out at random intervals had stretched him, forced him to adapt to its power, meaning that by the time he landed just a few houses away from the invasion force, he only felt a little more tired than before. If only it was always like this. 

Voices drifted up from the street below him. He crouched behind a roof, straining his ears to listen to the exchange happening below. 

“Report,” came a deep, metallic voice from below. Noctis suddenly realised this was the first time he’d heard an MT actually speak aside from screaming. He’d never let an invasion go so far after the first time he’d done this. It was...very unnerving. 

“Northern deployment destroyed, only three units remaining. Sightings reported of False King, and further enemy reinforcements.” 

“Sightings confirmed?”

“Negative.”

“Send out units to search for False King. If here, all units to destroy. False King occupies the highest threat level.”

“Yes, Commander.”

“More units to be deployed to the north, must continue siege.” 

“Yes, Commander.”

“End order sequence.”

“Confirmed, Commander.”

The voices stopped. Well, that was going to make his little enterprise a bit more difficult. He needed to destroy these ships, but also avoid being seen—even if he couldn’t technically die, he still didn’t feel like being shot to pieces by a hundred MTs. He’d need to be careful about this. 

He scrambled up to conceal himself behind a chimney, then cautiously poked his head around a corner, trying to assess the situation. The square where the MTs had been talking had mostly cleared, but there were still a few standing guard around the edges, and the ships were as ominously present as ever. 

He remembered then—some of them might have suicide bombers on, like when they were on the train. If he could just rig a few of them to explode he could cause a chain reaction that would bring down every ship in the harbour! …Or he could blow up one ship and alert the entire garrison to the fact he was there. Not exactly subtle. He shook his head in frustration—for goodness sake, he’d been fighting this exact war for almost three hundred years now! Surely he was better than this? 

Ideas—how could he make sure all the ships blew up? Well—making sure a bomber was in each one, obviously, but that would take time and effort he didn’t have. It needed to be something easier. There had to be some way to guarantee an MT unit would blow up, hadn’t there? But fire didn’t always make them explode—not unless it hit their circuits... Ha. But fire wasn’t the only magic he had access to. He did have these powers for some reason, after all. 

If he could combine them—fire and electricity, he might be able to create something truly deadly. He couldn’t actually unleash it until the last moment though—with how his magic had been he didn’t trust himself to make a bomb that would go off at a specific time. Which meant he’d need to get onto one of those ships. MTs were very carefully guarding each one. This would be interesting. 

* * *

Water pressed in on him from all sides, and not for the first time since he’d had the idea, Noctis thought it was probably one of his worse ones. There was no easy way onto the airships from land, so Noctis had decided his best bet would be to approach from the water, finding a safe place he could dive in and swim around. He’d forgotten, of course, that with the seasons changing it was now distinctly autumn, and the ocean was now distinctly freezing. The water seemed to cut him, his muscles so tense he could barely move them, but he had to keep swimming. It was the only way he wouldn’t succumb to the cold. 

Ugh—come on. He’d dealt with worse than this. Just. Keep. Moving. 

He rose to the surface once again, shaking the water out of his eyes, looking around to see where he was. There were the ships, just ahead of him. This plan could still work. It _would_ work. 

He dived back under the water, trying his best to ignore the chill as he forced himself forward, using his numb arms to propel himself through the water. There—he was just under the ship now. He let himself rise to the surface again—there was a small gap between the bottom of the ship and water itself as it hovered just above—enough space for him to catch his breath again. Alright. He’d best hope he was under an unoccupied part of the ship. 

He flipped his sword in his hand. Time to get to business. 

The metallic surface of the ship gave under the sleek edge of his sword like it was butter. Noctis had never been more thankful for the fact that it was so quiet. When he’d cut a hole roughly big enough for him to fit through and let it slide silently under the water, he risked sticking his head into to the ship.

He clapped his hand over his mouth to repress a scream—they were everywhere! Sitting there, watching him the whole time—waiting—wait... Why weren’t they firing on him? He took another look at them, his heart racing so fast he almost forgot how freezing the water was. No lights in their eyes. They were unconscious. The tension drained out of his shoulders. Holy shit. 

Alright, he could still do this. He heaved himself into the ship proper, unable to stop himself from shivering as he left the icy water. There _were_ some MTs guarding the entrance, but they were facing away from him, thank the Six. These units did seem to be bombers. Perfect. He’d be able to get the chain reaction started relatively easily. The problem was just conjuring the bomb. 

He didn’t trust his magic—he couldn’t, by this point, if he wanted to stay safe, but he’d need to pull on it for this. He tried to still the apprehensive thoughts teaming in his mind. He had to do this—it would decimate their forces, and make saving the citizens of Altissia that much easier. He had to. 

It was with a hand trembling with anxiety that he reached within himself for where the magic lay hidden. Just a little further...there! It crackled and burned, trying to flee from his grip, wary of being chained again. Noctis felt much the same way. But he needed this. So with hesitation now threatening to overwhelm him, he reached out and grabbed it. The sensation that resulted could only be described as agony. 

His magic fought against him, ripping, tearing at him, desperate not to be drawn out into the real world, snarling like a wild animal. But Noctis braced himself against the pain and continued to pull—he needed to get it out, no matter the cost—the guards would notice the commotion soon, and then—

A terrific _crack_ sent Noctis flying backwards as the magic manifested in his fingers and proceeded to detonate. He’d been so focused on just trying to get it to work that he’d forgotten entirely that he wanted a combination of fire and electricity—but his subconscious, it seemed, had not. A crackle of lightning leapt towards one of the sleeping MTs, and then a ferocious roar sounded as the fire followed it, setting it ablaze. 

A low hum filled the air, coming from the smouldering MT. Was it going to blow up? That was what he’d intended, to get the chain reaction started—and now more lightning was crackling around the ship—he should probably get off...oh no.

He was staring down the barrels of multiple guns pointed at him—all the noise had alerted the guards to his presence and now he had no way out. The hum grew louder. Even he hesitated to imagine what would happen to him if he got trapped in here when that thing, and indeed all the MTs now lit up by his magic finally exploded.

He needed to move—now. 

“False King confirmed, execute?” boomed across the edges of his hearing as he fled deeper into the ship, trying to dodge the increasingly violent lightning dancing across the room—there the hole! He just had to get through it!

The hum was reaching a deafening pitch, and he could hear the sound of guns being loaded—just a little further—

The water stung like ice as his body collided with it. Was he safe?

A sound came from overhead—muffled slightly by the water, but Noctis heard the force of it even before he felt it. The ship exploded, becoming a vast circle of white light, expanding out quicker than he could process, quicker than he could move—

He didn’t even have time to scream. 

He was aware of being flung beyond his own consciousness, and expected that at any moment Gentiana would appear before him, chastising him for his recklessness. But that didn’t happen. He was adrift in the darkness, waiting for some sign of light, of that world beyond worlds where he’d rested before. But nothing was happening. What was going on?

_King of Stone,_ whispered a voice far below him, and though it was only a whisper the strength of it made him gasp for breath. 

“Yes?” he murmured, almost afraid to get a response. 

_He lives then..._ There was an odd hissing quality to the voice, like that of a snake, or...something else. _His life is made forfeit by the power of the Draconian._

“I know that.”

_Silence mortal!_ The voice became almost ear-splitting in its power, and Noctis had to repress the urge to scream. _Great damage this wretched being has wrought upon precious Eos, and yet the Hydraean is forced to answer to it._

“You really don’t have to—” Noctis began, thinking he’d rather not have Leviathan involved in all this mess.

_What manner of being is it that severed the King from life on this occasion?_

Noctis thought the answer ‘himself’ would not go down well, so he went for the next closest thing. “MTs—they’ve invaded Altissia, they blew up the—”

_SILENCE!_

Noctis was pretty sure his ears actually were bleeding. 

_Do not bother the creator of All with such things. The abominations will be destroyed, and a feast will be had with their remains._

That did not sound good. But before he got the chance to protest he found himself sent spinning out of the strange dimension in which he was speaking to Leviathan, and into a new place entirely. He was aware of a sensation of falling. Then he realised he was falling. 

The stone pavement was rushing up to meet him with an alarming speed, and he flung out his hands to lessen the blow instinctively. Only to find they didn’t hit the floor at all. Just as he was sure he would impact with the cold, hard stone, he felt himself being flung upwards again, and then down... He was bouncing? He cracked a cautious eye open. Was that a...bubble, he’d generated around himself? Almost as soon as he realised this, it disappeared, leaving him to go crashing into the ground properly. 

Pain shot through his arms. Six damn it.

He pushed himself groggily to his feet, aware of a sense of urgency humming in his chest. What was happening? He was in the ship, then talking to Leviathan, and then...

Water crashed over his head, sending him sprawling onto the pavement again. He spluttered as he tried to regain his bearings, looking around wildly for the source of the wave. It didn’t take much to find it. 

Towering above the buildings, Leviathan’s massive, serpentine form had exploded from the water, sending it spraying over the buildings below. Noctis became aware of screaming somewhere to his right. Ignis’s words suddenly flashed in his mind—people would be hiding beneath bridges...and he’d just raised the water level. 

Shit. 

He went pelting around the corner, trying to find the source of the screams. Damn it he was such an idiot—that was what he was supposed to be doing in the first place. And instead he’d put even more people in danger by angering the MTs and waking Leviathan again. Damn it, damn it, damn it! This wasn’t how it was meant to go!

The bridge came into sight, and he could already see people struggling to remain above the water as it rose higher and higher. He ran up to the side of the bridge. 

“Here!” he called out, hoping he’d be able to catch their attention over the colossal noise being generated by Leviathan. “Grab my hand—I can help you!” 

One of the civilians, a small girl, began frantically trying to swim towards him, clearly struggling against the current. He leant over the edge as far as he could without slipping in—come on, just a little further—her small hand clasped his. It was so wet it was hard to hold onto her, but Noctis held on as tight as he could, hauling her out of the water. 

She started coughing violently once she was out, but she seemed otherwise unharmed. 

“Thanks,” she whispered, before turning back to the water. “Hey, come over here! We can help you out!” she yelled. 

More people turned and noticed them, and soon most of the people in danger of drowning were free of the waves. 

“Thank you, sir,” an older woman was saying. “I don’t know what we’d have done without you.” 

“It’s nothing,” said Noctis, wondering how many more people were actually drowning because of what he’d done. “Can’t stick around, sorry, more people to find.”

“We quite understand,” said the woman, nodding. 

Noctis couldn’t bear to look at them any longer, and began practically running away. He tried to listen for more people in danger, but the deeper he got into the city, the harder it was to hear over the sounds of machinery mobilising and Leviathan’s screams from overhead. 

This was all too much—he barely knew where he was anymore—were those MTs just ahead of him? One turned a gun on him, its eyes flashing red—Noctis began backing away—

A screeching, crushing, tearing sound ripped through his eardrums as something massive crashed into the MTs just ahead of him. Leviathan’s huge body crushed the houses like they were nothing, cracking the MTs in her powerful jaws, roaring in triumph. The entire street Noctis was standing in had been levelled. He wasn’t even entirely sure why he himself was still alive. 

He tried to force himself to move from where he was standing but he found he couldn’t. This was his fault. All his fault. He didn’t dare look at the rubble, sure there would be bodies lying somewhere within. Oh, Six—he hadn’t meant for this to happen. It was all going out of control, just like everything else, just like all those times before, the destruction... Was this what he was really made for? Destroying things? Like Ardyn? 

No—no, he could still stop this, surely...

“What the _hell_ do you think you’re doing?” roared a voice from up ahead of him. 

Noctis didn’t know he’d ever seen Aranea so furious before. 

“Did you seriously summon that thing? Do you any idea what you’re fucking doing? It’s _killing_ people!”

“It was an accident—”

“An accident?” she yelled, now practically shaking with fury. “How the fuck do you summon a _God_ by _accident?”_

“I know, it’s still my fault, I think I might be able to stop her—” 

“Well then why aren’t you _doing_ it? Get out of here!” 

Noctis’s head was ringing so badly by this point he barely knew which way was up, but he was pretty sure if he remained in Aranea’s presence a second longer she was going to kill him, so he just began running, again. 

And he kept running. He didn’t know where he was going, didn’t know if the screams surrounding him were from people, or MTs or his friends, or another world entirely—knew just knew he had to keep running. He shouldn’t have been surprised by where his legs took him. 

The altar—or the street leading up to the altar, anyway. It all began and ended here. 

He could see bodies floating in the water now. His limbs were shaking uncontrollably. 

His fault. 

It was all his fault.

Leviathan’s glistening scales were flying through the water as she ducked and dodged in and out, through the streets, causing massive destruction as she went. The sun was gone now, only a faint glimmer on the horizon, and Noctis could hear screaming in the shadows as the daemons reappeared. 

Memories began to surface, unbidden—darkness, violence...hatred. He knew he needed to stop Leviathan, but already he could feel that dreadful, dreadful pull within him. That insatiable anger. If he killed Leviathan, would there be a way back again? His magic was fighting with him already, burning like it was before—would he become that thing again? That monster, unable to see anything but darkness? 

He couldn’t lose his mind now, he couldn’t but...

A corpse floated by his vision—a young man, not much older than him. Was he willing to sacrifice everyone left in the city just so that he would be okay? The anger began to boil. Would he do what his father did, when he saved him, all those years ago? 

Hadn’t he gone back in the first place to _save them?_

No. The darkness may be burning within him, but he would not lose himself to the pull, even if it meant brushing closer to it than he had in years. 

Noctis Lucis Caelum did not sacrifice his people for the greater good. Not even the Gods could make him do that. 

He stepped out onto the water. 

And everything froze in place. 


	13. Chaos

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Previously: Noct and the bros arrive in Altissia to discover that the daemon-possessed MTs have moved in and are beginning to exterminate the population of the city as night falls. Aranea instructs them to save as many people as they can, but Noct tries his luck against the MTs, blowing himself up in the process. His death forces Leviathan, still bound to him, to intervene, and she rapidly makes the situation worse, beginning to kill off civilians as well as MTs. Noct resolves to stop her and steps out onto the lake just as he's summoning his increasingly volatile magic.

It was when Leviathan reared her head above the waves that Ignis realised something must have gone wrong. Noct had been off anyway—which was probably understandable knowing his fate, but this—this was something else entirely. 

Why would he summon Leviathan, especially now, of all times? There was nothing she could do for the city—in fact, she was only making the chaos worse as she crashed into buildings and levelled entire streets. 

Ignis was forced to dodge back behind a corner to avoid the MTs running through the streets, motioning to the people following him to remain hidden. At least they had practice at this from last time, but still... He needed to find out what was going on, quickly. 

When he was sure the street was clear he motioned for them to follow him as he headed as quickly as he could towards the northern docks. Street after street after street, he tried as best he could not to go too fast for the weak and the elderly among the group, but it was hard going all the same, what with the state the streets were in. 

Just a bit further now, another corner... 

Ignis’s heart sunk as he saw what lay before him. The route he’d used before had been rendered completely impassable, the bridges in tatters, the water beginning to flood onto the street. There was no way across without swimming, and Ignis was fairly sure not everyone he was guiding could swim. 

“What are we going to do?” barked and old man from behind him. 

“Find another way around,” said Ignis, straightening his glasses—little good it did him in the rain. “Follow me.”

He tried desperately to remember the layout of the city, such as it was, from the last time he was here, but it was tough going. Eventually he found a side-street which led them clear to the docks. Thank goodness. He was beginning to worry for a moment there—

A shrill scream sounded behind him, and Ignis leapt forward just in time to push a woman out of the way of Leviathan’s jaws as she came crashing down behind them—but that wasn’t the only thing they had to worry about. In the shadows of the street the woman had almost been pushed down, he could see shapes moving in the darkness. Dusk was slowly fading, and soon night would have well and truly fallen. He needed to move faster. 

He set off with a renewed speed, hoping the others would be able to keep up. It was their only hope. 

* * *

It was a relief when the docks finally came into sight, but only a small one. The group thanked him and he did his best to extricate himself as soon as possible without appearing too rude. He needed to find the source of all this trouble, as soon as possible. Surely Noct had realised by now that Leviathan wasn’t helping? Why hadn’t he sent her away yet? Had something gone wrong? 

The questions were spinning through his mind, just as he came face to face with Gladio. 

“Iggy!” he cried, rushing over to him. “You’re alright, right? What the hell’s going on? Have you seen Noct?” 

“I’m fine, Gladio,” said Ignis, trying his best to brush off the concern, “but as to those last two questions, I’m afraid I’m as in the dark as you. I haven’t seen Noct at all, and I’ve no idea why he’s summoned Leviathan.” 

“She completely wrecking the city,” said Gladio, clearly barely able to contain himself. “She must have killed some people already, and who knows how many more will die if this keeps up? He needs to send her back.” 

Ignis raised a pacifying hand. “I know. We must find him, as quickly as we can. It’s possible he no longer has the means to send her back, in which case we must fight ourselves.” 

“His magic again?” asked Gladio, begrudgingly. 

“Or he’s been knocked unconscious. His powers do not require him to be awake to function, if I recall correctly.” 

Gladio nodded grimly. “You’re right, they don’t. But where are we gonna find him?” 

“Guys!” 

They both looked up at the new voice, and saw Prompto rushing towards them. 

“Guys, I’m so glad I found you,” he panted, resting his hands on his knees. “Things are going crazy. Me and Aranea got separated, so I figured I’d find you—but we have to go after her! She’s looking for Noct, and she’s really angry he summoned Leviathan—”

“Alright, Prompto,” said Ignis, trying to think of how best to calm him down. “We were going to try and find Noct anyway, Do you have any idea where he might have gone?” 

“Well he said he was gonna cover the south, right? But I dunno if he’s there anymore—Leviathan’s right in the middle of the lake, I guess if he wanted to stop her...”

“Let’s head there first,” said Ignis. “Then we will begin looking elsewhere. That seems like the best course of action.”

“And if we don’t find him?” asked Gladio. 

“Then we start to worry.” 

* * *

It was a grim procession towards the altar. Leviathan had caused more damage than Ignis had anticipated—many buildings were wrecked and he’d seen more bodies than he cared to count. It was frustrating though—more and more daemons were appearing as the evening wore on, and along with the MTs still occupying the city and the threat of Leviathan storming down on them any second, it was slow going. 

As they reached another flooded street, Ignis found himself wishing for the grappling hook he’d had last time. It would make traversing the city that much easier...

“Great, what are we going to do now?” asked Gladio, sounding tireder than ever. Ignis had to internally admit he was feeling much the same way. 

“I guess we could try and swim,” said Prompto, looking unenthusiastically into the water. “Can’t be that bad, right?” 

But just as Prompto was raising his foot to gingerly step in, and Ignis was moving to haul him away, it happened. 

All at once, the water that had been surging across the street froze. Ice spread across the surface with a speed that was frankly terrifying, freezing the water all the way through, leaving icy waves frozen in the air, about to crash into the still, lifeless expanse of what had once been the canal. 

Magic. Had to be. But Ignis had never seen Noct use this much of if before—didn’t know he was even _capable_ of such a feat. Incredibly cautiously, he stepped onto the ice, trying to look out onto the lake, to see if that had frozen too. 

It had. An endless expanse of white, illuminated by the moonlight, stretched out before his eyes. This was...immense. The power this much magic would require—the ability to shape nature itself to his whim... What on earth...? How was this even possible? Never before had there been records of any King of Lucis achieving such a thing. It was unheard of. It was...incredibly dangerous. 

Ignis suddenly felt he understood why the Gods were so afraid of Noct. 

“Did...did Noct do this?” asked Prompto, tentatively following Ignis out onto the ice, sliding a little as he did. “I mean, how...?” 

“I don’t know,” said Ignis. That alone unnerved him. 

“He’s got to be on the lake,” said Gladio, trying to be all business, though it was clear by the pallor of his face he’d been rattled. “We need to get to him. ASAP.” 

“Yeah, yeah, we should do that,” said Prompto, shaking his head as though to try and wake himself for a dream. “This can’t be normal, right?” 

Ignis wasn’t sure there was such a thing as normal where Noct was concerned, but kept quiet. They were right. They needed to go after him. 

The canals all being frozen made traversing the city a lot easier, and it wasn’t long before they were all standing in front of the lake where Leviathan lay. Or used to, anyway. The lake freezing all at once appeared to have frozen her too—or trapped her in place at least, and she was writhing in the air, her tail trapped in the ice, bellowing so loudly it was hard to even yourself think. 

She wasn’t what Ignis was focused on though. There, in the centre of the lake, a small, dark figure was floating a high in the air, surrounded by blades of pure light. Noctis. 

It really _was_ him doing all this. 

“Hey, Noct!” Prompto called out over the lake. 

Noctis didn’t respond. Ignis wasn’t sure whether it was that he hadn’t heard Prompto or that he just couldn’t. He seemed to be in some other state now, another plane of reality. It wouldn’t surprise him at all if he was deaf to the waking world now. 

“What’s wrong with him?” asked Gladio, as though Ignis would know the answer. 

“I don’t know.”

“It looks like he’s...possessed, or something.” 

“I certainly doubt he’s still with us, in this moment,” said Ignis, but just as he said it, something...shifted.

He couldn’t have said what it was exactly, he just got the irrepressible notion something fundamental about the world had slid out of place. Like the very air had been rendered unbreathable. Then the voice spoke.

A horrible, guttural, incomprehensible sound echoed across the lake, and Ignis recognised the language as that of the Astrals, but... Although every sense he had identified the sound as coming from Noct, his brain simply wouldn’t believe it. He knew what he was seeing, what he was hearing but...he didn’t. He couldn’t. This was very, very wrong. 

Then things got worse. 

As the voice echoed and boomed across the lake, Leviathan’s screams got worse, and that sensation that the very air was choking him drove down to Ignis’s bones. Then a huge hand landed on his shoulder and wrenched him backwards—he could breathe, properly breathe again! But...what the hell was that?

In the space where he’d just been standing, Ignis saw it, plain as day. A hole had been ripped in the air, glistening, swirling just above the pavement. It was barely visible, only illuminated by the tiniest silver of moonlight, but it was _there_. What was he looking at? 

“Is that...a hole?” asked Prompto, his eyes wider than Ignis had ever seen them. “How... Is Noct...?” 

Ignis looked out across the lake. Light was shining out now, illuminating the figure floating high above the surface. Could that really be Noct? He looked so strange, so otherworldly... Could that possibly be him? 

“We have to do something!” said Gladio, and Ignis immediately turned around, but the moment he did he saw Gladio’s mouth was closed. 

He was staring in shock at the window hanging in the air. But—

“We can’t hurt him, Gladio.” That was his own voice. But he wasn’t speaking. What kind of twisted illusion was this? “It’s our duty to protect him, we _can’t_ —”

“If we don’t he’s gonna die anyway.” 

“Ah, not to pile the pressure on or anything,” that was Prompto speaking now, “but we won’t be able to stay up here much longer.”

“We’ve got to do this, Iggy. I’m sorry.” 

Ignis heard himself, or some eerily accurate replica, sigh deeply. “So am I.” 

Was that...really their voices? Ignis moved a little closer to the crack in the air—was it a portal? A way to another world? Were there other worlds? There must be, if what Noct had said about his time travel was true, but what—oh Six—what on earth was going on? 

“Was that us?” asked Prompto, the _real_ Prompto, from behind him. 

“I don’t know.” 

This was almost impossible to comprehend, let alone explain. Ignis looked back out over the lake. If Noct really was doing this, then he had power beyond anything any of them could have guessed. He was...something else. And for the briefest moment, Ignis felt...afraid. 

He tried to shake himself. Who in their right mind would be afraid of Noct? 

Then there came a thunderous _crack_ from across the lake. Leviathan’s wailing stopped. 

That was probably a good enough reason to be afraid. 

The light spilling out over the lake intensified, almost blinding in its fury, making the dark of night turn briefly to day in a flash of colour. Then Ignis noticed them: more cracks opening in the air, more tears in the very fabric of reality. 

This was impossible. But nothing was impossible when it came to Noct.

More voices from within—from the same world, perhaps? From their old world? 

“You know I heard the Prince of Lucis was coming here,” said an unrecognisable voice. “To kill Leviathan, like he did the others.” 

“I hope Niflheim puts a stop to that boy,” said the voice of an elderly man. “He’s crazy. Everyone says so.”

“He can’t have gone far, right?” Prompto’s voice now, from a different tear. “I swear he was here just a moment ago.”

“Maybe we should just let him go,” suggested Gladio’s voice. “He seems to know what he’s doing—well, that’s what he says, anyway.”

“Gladio’s right, Prompto. He knows more than we ever will.” 

Another tear—there were so many now. This had to be damaging the world somehow.

Then something so loud it bordered on incomprehensible boomed through one of the portals—the Astral language, loud and clear. 

“Well you see, you’re missing one important thing.” Noct’s voice now. “I don’t care.”

There was such...coldness in his voice as he said it. Such hollow emptiness. Was that really him? Ignis had never heard him sound like that before, ever. All of this was wrong. 

The air was beginning to blur around them as more and more portals kept appearing. Something about the hazy wrongness of them brought Ignis crashing back to reality in an instant. 

“We have to stop this!” he called back to the others, though it had gotten so loud now, with the voices from the portals and wind blowing fiercely off the lake, that it was hard to hear at all. 

“How?” came Prompto’s voice over the din. “What’s even causing it?” 

“It has to be Noct, he’s the only one who could wield this much power!” 

“How’re we gonna stop him, Iggy?” asked Gladio, and it was clearly taking effort for him to fight his way over against the wind. “I can’t even see him anymore!” 

Ignis turned back to the lake. Gladio was right—a swirling mass of white had formed in the centre of the lake, where Noct had once been—a snowstorm? Did he even have control over what he was doing anymore? 

“What is that?” asked Prompto, gasping for breath against the strength of the wind. 

“A snowstorm,” said Ignis. “I have a feeling that unless we stop it soon it will take all of Altissia. We must move, now.” 

“By your side, Iggy,” said Gladio. 

“Right,” said Prompto. 

“Try and stay close to me as we approach the storm. We don’t want to lose each other in there.” 

The both of them nodded, and they all turned towards the lake. Freezing wind blasted over it, hitting him with enough force that he half-thought he might freeze to the spot. But they had to keep moving. For Noct. 

A light dusting of snow had covered the frozen lake by the time they jumped down to it, and the snowstorm was inching outwards with each passing second. Cold pierced Ignis’s bones as he kept moving forward, but he knew he couldn’t stop. He glanced back to the other two. Still following. Good. 

“What are we gonna do when we find him?” asked Prompto’s voice dimly through the storm. It was hard to tell if it was his Prompto or one from the portals appearing everywhere.

“We must convince him to stop,” said Ignis, unsure if he’d heard him. 

“What if we can’t convince him?” called out Gladio. “I don’t think that’s really him out on the lake Iggy, not anymore.”

Ignis had been trying hard not to think about that possibility. It was likely, almost certain from the strange light that had gripped Noctis in those last few moments where he was visible, but Ignis couldn’t believe it, not just yet.

“Then we must find some other means of stopping him,” he yelled, sheets of snow now coming down on them. 

There was no reply. Ignis turned behind him to check they were still following, but...no. Just white—the snow had gotten so thick he couldn’t even see them anymore. Had he lost them? 

“Prompto?” he yelled. Nothing. “Gladio?” It was getting harder to speak the colder it got, his voice hoarse from the shouting. 

Damn it. This was exactly what he didn’t want to happen—if none of them could find Noct in time, or they couldn’t convince him to stand down...it was so cold... No! He couldn’t think of that. Not right now, anyway. He needed to make it through this storm first. 

Cold...so achingly cold...

He couldn’t even feel his own face, his hands like numb blocks of ice beside him. Which way was forward? There was no path ahead... He must be in here somewhere. Come on, Ignis! Keep going! Just one foot...after the other...

There—was that light somewhere ahead? Just keep moving—

He gasped as he finally walked free of the storm. Well, free might be putting it too strongly. As he looked around he saw he’d merely walked into a centre of calm—the eye of the storm, as it were. A flurry of white flakes was spinning just outside this cold central chamber of still air. He looked up, already able to guess what he was going to see above him. 

Noct barely looked human anymore. White light was shining out of his eyes, his scars, just like after Gralea, but far worse this time. That skin he could see seemed to have a flaky, ashen quality to it, and there was something wild, almost feral in what was left of his face. Gladio had been right. He wasn’t here now, not properly, anyway. But there had to be some way to free him, hadn’t there? Beyond the obvious...beyond the terrible.

“Noct!” he yelled, as loudly as his ailing lungs would let him. The air was so cold each breath was like swallowing a knife. “Can you hear me?”

No response. Unless staring blankly outwards like there was nothing and no one there counted as a response. 

“Noctis!” 

Please there had to be something else. Anything else...

“Iggy, is that you?” a spluttering voice cried from behind him. 

“Gladio!” Ignis had never felt so relieved to see a familiar face. “I thought I’d lost you in the storm. Do you know where Prompto is?”

“No, I haven’t—” Gladio began, but then there was a loud gasping from the other side of the chamber, and Prompto practically fell into the area they were all standing. “Prompto! You okay?” 

Gladio quickly ran over to Prompto’s side, and Ignis followed just as quickly. Prompto was shivering fiercely but looked otherwise unharmed. 

“Yeah,” he whispered, clearly finding as hard to speak as they were. Then he glanced up and his already pale face became even paler. “Is that...?”

“I’m afraid so,” sighed Ignis, unwilling to turn back and face what was behind him. “He isn’t responding.”

“Not surprised,” said Gladio, staring up at him. “He looks far gone. There might be only one way to do this.” 

He glanced over at Ignis, and Ignis knew it hurt him just as much to even suggest it, but there might be no other way out of this. 

“Yes,” said Ignis, quietly. “I’m afraid you might be right.” 

“What’s going on?” asked Prompto, looking back and forth between them. “Do you guys have a plan? How are we going to fix this?” 

“Fix is a nice way of putting it,” snorted Gladio. 

“What do you mean?” 

“He means we might have to take drastic measures to stop this,” sighed Ignis, gesturing towards the snow spinning just beyond the invisible barrier. “We...might have to hurt Noct, to do that.” 

“How?” asked Prompto, his expression contorting into a frown. “And why? I mean, there’s got to be some other way of stopping this, right?” 

“We need to get him down from there at least,” said Gladio, tilting his head towards where Noct was suspended in the air. “If he still isn’t responding after that we have to knock him out. Sorry Prompto, if we don’t want the storm to spread any further then it’s the only way.”

“I mean...he’ll be okay eventually though, right?”

There was such an expression of panic in Prompto’s expression, Ignis could hardly say no, but he forced himself to stay realistic. 

“I’ve never seen anything like this before, Prompto. Who’s to say what will happen once we calm the storm? Noctis’s powers are out of control. He was ripping holes in reality itself back there—humans aren’t supposed to have that sort of power. We all know that.”

“Right,” said Prompto, quietly. 

This was going to hurt, whatever way they did it.

“We need to get him down first,” said Ignis, trying to distract himself with the practical aspects of the thing. “Though how to reach him while none of us can warp will be an interesting affair.”

“I think I could knock him down,” said Gladio, swinging his sword in his hand. “If I can just get the right angle...”

With that, Gladio tossed his sword into the air, and it went flying towards Noct, the hilt colliding with him hard, bringing him down to their level. Well, that was the first step, but—

A blast of icy wind went sweeping over them in an instant, the force so colossal Ignis was knocked back off his feet. The ice was cold and hard beneath him, freezing his fingertips. The wind didn’t stop though, so he stayed close to the ground, waiting for it to pass over. So cold...

Then it stopped. He pushed himself cautiously upright, and was immediately forced to duck again as a blade went rushing past his face. Wait—a blade? Was it...Noct, doing this? Ignis very carefully manoeuvred himself to look at Noct without him noticing and—yes, that was him alright. Well, not really him, not anymore. Something like him. It might have been Noct, once upon a time. But telling himself that didn’t make the idea of fighting him any easier. 

“Watch out!” he called across the ice, hoping the other two would hear him. “He’s going to fight.” 

Moments later Gladio leapt upright, and began running towards Noct at full-pelt, clearly hoping to reach him before he had time to cast anything. Even if Gladio failed, Ignis knew he could use this distraction to get his own attack ready, and cautiously got to his feet too. Gladio’s strategy was no good, that became obvious immediately as Noct sent a burst of fire in his direction—only avoiding burning him to a crisp because Gladio dodged out of the way just in time. He was taking this seriously. Or at least, whatever thing that had replaced him was. 

Damn it. He didn’t want to have to use actual force against Noct but if this kept up...

Another blade came racing in his direction, and he didn’t even have time to formulate a plan of attack before being forced to dodge out of the way again. He didn’t have enough time to plan, that was the problem—Noct was moving too quickly, keeping them all at a disadvantage. Ignis could see that Prompto had risen to his feet behind Noctis—that would probably be his next target. Perhaps he could use that as a distraction... 

Sure enough, as Noct turned to face down Prompto, Ignis used his moment of distraction to rush over to Gladio, the idea being attempting to form a plan of attack. But just as he reached Gladio’s side, there was an ear-splitting _crack_ from behind them. 

A gun-shot.

Noct was bursting with light now, light concentrated around a small point in his shoulder—where the bullet must have hit. Bestial rage contorted what was left of his features. 

They had to get Prompto out of the danger zone. Now.

Ignis was already running towards him, and Gladio wasn’t far behind. The light was getting worse, flowing off Noctis in waves. Damn it, this was no good. They couldn’t really defend against magical attacks—if Noct unleashed all of his power... 

Finally Ignis was at Prompto’s side—he was trembling, tears coming from his eyes, frozen in place, and Ignis grabbed him by the arm, trying to get him to move—

The next second was agony. 

The light crackling under Noctis’s skin expanded, lancing out towards them, and when it connected—Ignis could barely breathe through the pain. Was this what it felt like? Was this what Noct was going through, every second that power coursed through him? Ignis could barely think—it was like all his limbs were lit up in flame, and a burning agony suffused something deep within him, something he’d never touched before. His soul? Was there even such a thing? 

These thoughts slowly subsided as the pain began to wear away, but Ignis found his limbs were still shaky and unresponsive, even as he lay there on the ground. He could see Noctis’s outline, standing above them, eyes blazing with light, an unholy presence burning inside him. Did he even understand he was hurting them? Ignis hoped he didn’t.

But there was no way out of this now, if Noct attacked again he’d kill them, Ignis was sure of it. And he didn’t know if they could actually stop him. There was so much power—Noct had just killed a God with it. What were they? 

But...he _hadn’t_ killed them. 

He hadn’t... _actually_ killed them. He could, obviously, of that there was no doubt, but...he hadn’t. Hope flooded into Ignis’s chest. There must be some part of Noct still in there, some part that realised what was going on. If that still existed then...then they might be able to get through to him. There was still hope. Thank goodness. 

“Gladio,” Ignis whispered, hoping Noct wouldn’t notice such a small act of rebellion amidst his anger. “Gladio, can you hear me?” 

“Just about,” murmured Gladio. “I hope you know what you’re doing. What if he attacks again?” 

“He won’t. He could have killed us by now, if he wanted to—he must still be conscious in there somewhere. We might still have a chance to get through to him.”

“You sure, Iggy? I don’t want any of us to end up dead. I think Prompto’s been knocked unconscious.”

Ignis’s heart gave a jolt, and he tried to glance over at Prompto as best he could from where he was lying. No movement. All the more reason to move quickly then. 

“Then we must get on with it.”

“What are you planning?”

“We must make him realise what’s going on, bring him back to reality.”

“He’s staring at Prompto, look.”

He was. Noct’s form was still hovering ominously in the air, but his head was clearly turned towards Prompto. Ignis couldn’t clearly see Noct’s face, but he thought by the more subdued light coming out of him that he seemed worried.  
  
“Maybe we can use that to our advantage,” Ignis said quietly. Now was the time to strike. “Noct!” he called out, and Noctis’s head snapped around to face him immediately. “Do you see what you’ve done? This isn’t you anymore!”

The light flared up again, blazing and wild, but Noct didn’t attack them. Good, it was working. “Just stop now, please! Leviathan is gone!” 

A sound came out of the body floating above them, a deep, echoing, incomprehensible sound, but Ignis wouldn’t let it unnerve him. He motioned to Gladio to get moving. He just had to keep Noct distracted long enough. 

“I know you can come back—we know, we trust in you Noct. Please stop this!” 

Gladio crept upright and began moving around behind Noct. If Ignis could just persuade him down here...

Another rumbling rebuke in the Astral language, but it was slightly softer this time. Gladio was almost there now.

“You can do this.” Just a little closer. “Listen, Noctis.” The light was dimming again. Noct was floating closer to the ground, close enough to be in reach of Gladio... “It’s all going to be alright.”

Gladio brought the flat side of the sword down on Noct’s head, hard. The light flared up again furiously, and brilliant, burning brightness exploded out again—no, no this couldn’t be the end! He just had to hold on...

The white of the frozen lake was beginning to flicker and fade to darkness as the screeching pain wore on—or was it just that the snow had stopped? His vision was fading fast, but through the haze, Ignis could see a dark figure floating slowly towards the ground, then alighting on it—wait, dark? Had it ended? Was Noct...back... 

The blurriness made it hard to tell even that much, but soft words echoed in Ignis’s head as he finally lost himself to unconsciousness. 

“I’m sorry.” 


	14. Suffering

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Previously: Ignis, Prompto and Gladio attempt to save more civilians but are interrupted by the sudden arrival of Leviathan. They race to try and find Noct in an attempt to persuade him to stop her, but are too late: he has taken matters into his own hands and confronted her alone. Noctis rapidly loses control of his magic, tearing holes in reality through which other versions of Ignis, Prompto and Gladio can be heard. They fight their way towards him and are eventually able to knock him out, but their progress is not without cost...

When Prompto awoke, the first thing he noticed was that he felt like every muscle in his body had been set on fire within him. He would have gasped at the pain but even that hurt too much to think about. 

His eyes dimly perceived a metallic-looking ceiling. Was he underground? On an airship?

“Finally awake, sunshine?” came a tired, drawling voice from somewhere above him. 

He recognised that voice

“Aranea?” he croaked, immediately rushing to try and push himself upright—had he collapsed in front of her, what would she think—

Suddenly it all came rushing back to him. Leviathan being summoned, Noct going crazy, them having to find him in the storm, trying to subdue him. He’d panicked, lost control with his finger on the trigger and—

Oh Six. 

That hadn’t really happened had it? He remembered it so vividly, the sound of the gunshot cracking through the sound of the wind rushing in his ears, the blast of light from Noct’s shoulder as it hit him—the raw, feral _anger_ in his eyes—

“Whoa there kid,” said Aranea, gliding over to him. “Don’t get up too quick, you’ll break something else.”

“Where’s Noct?” asked Prompto, barely able to speak his voice was trembling so badly. “Is he okay? What happened? Where are the others—”

“Hey, slow down a sec,” said Aranea, with a pitying smile. “I can’t keep up with all that. One question at a time, yeah?” 

Prompto tried to resolve the screaming panic that was his mind right now into something approaching a sane line of questioning. 

“Okay,” he breathed, willing himself to calm down, “okay. What—what happened out there? I don’t really remember, it’s all... It felt like a nightmare...”

A dark look passed over Aranea’s face. Nausea rose in his chest.

“Yeah it went pretty crazy for a while there. Can’t say I know exactly what was going on. Holes in the sky and Gods and magic and that—not really my thing. Not used to it.” 

Though her voice was calm, the way she was standing, almost as if poised to spring at any moment, told Prompto all he needed to know about how much the situation had affected her. 

“What I _can_ tell you is that after the freak snowstorm that turned the sea into ice, we found you all out in the middle of the lake. Lucky we did, the daemons probably would’ve eaten you otherwise.”

“Thanks,” Prompto said quickly. Too quickly. Damn it. “Are they...the others, I mean, are they okay?”

“Your two smart friends are up and about already—well, they’re conscious at least. A bit cold, but no worse for wear otherwise, though they do seem pretty troubled. I take it whatever happened out there wasn’t pretty?” 

The howling rage on Noct’s face in that moment...did he hate him? He must hate him after that, right? 

“You...could say that,” he mumbled. 

“The prince isn’t up yet,” she said, as though guessing what was on his mind. “He’s uh...been in quite the state since we picked him up.” 

And it was his fault. He _shot_ him. Tears began to pool at the edges of his eyes. 

“But he’s getting better!” Aranea said quickly. “Much better than before. The light’s almost all gone now. We figure when it vanishes completely he’ll wake up.” 

“Right,” said Prompto. The only thing he could coherently think was to thank the Six he hadn’t _died_. If he’d died because of Prompto then..then—no. He wouldn’t think about that. It didn’t happen. It _wouldn’t_ happen. 

“I understand if you want to see him, but the doc says you aren’t allowed out of bed until your fever’s gone down,” said Aranea with a wry smile. “Chill hit you the worst, she reckons. I’ll tell your friends to come around and check in on you so you don’t get bored to death though, so don’t worry about it.”

“Thanks,” said Prompto, now with a genuine smile. 

She just snorted and shook her head, then left off down some side-door. He was in an airship, that much was obvious now. Everywhere had an oppressive metallic sheen to it that made Prompto’s head hurt. He didn’t know what it was about airships but they’d always creeped him out. 

Thankfully, he wasn’t alone there for long. 

“Prompto! Good to see you awake.” Gladio appeared in the doorway, then strode over to sit on the side of his bed, though Prompto noticed he was moving a little more slowly than usual. 

“Hi,” he said, with a half-hearted smile. “Can’t say I feel any better for it, though.” He tried to displace the grimness of that statement with a chuckle, but it didn’t really work, and Gladio frowned, clearly catching it. 

“We were pretty worried about you for a spell back there,” he said, his expression turning serious. “When Noct hit you with that blast and you didn’t get up... Well, you’re okay now, aren’t you? That’s what matters.” 

‘Okay’ might be putting it a bit strongly, but Prompto supposed it was mostly accurate. “I guess.” 

Gladio clearly noticed his hesitation. “What’s eating you? Is it about Noct?” 

“I _shot_ him, Gladio! I—I hurt him! I don’t even know if he’s gonna be okay. It’s my fault he exploded and hurt everyone—”

“Hey now,” said Gladio, holding up a pacifying hand. “That wasn’t your fault—he was already well on his way to losing it before that happened.”

“But I still caused it in the end didn’t I? What if he—what if he hates me?” 

Gladio sighed, drawing his eyebrows together and massaging his face with his hand. “I’m sure he doesn’t hate you. He wasn’t himself back there, you know that.” 

He might not have been himself but surely he realised what had happened. And it was still Prompto’s fault if he really was injured... He couldn’t stop the tears now, flowing down his face in cold rivulets. 

“Oh, hey, come on now,” said Gladio, his voice becoming a lot softer. “None of us blame you for what happened, I swear.”

“Not upsetting Prompto are you, Gladio?” asked Ignis. 

Prompto got a nasty jolt when he saw him. He was holding a stick in his hand, and looked tireder than Prompto had ever seen him. 

His horror must have shown on his face, because Ignis quickly moved over to him. “It’s not nearly as bad as it looks,” he said with a smile. “I just twisted my leg while we were confronting Noct. What’s going on here?” 

He looked back and forth between him and Gladio, and Gladio was staring at the ground, while Prompto found he couldn’t speak from the shame of it. “I...” he tried to begin. That didn’t really work. “I...I hurt him,” he managed, before becoming completely unable to speak again. 

“Oh Prompto,” sighed Ignis, sitting down the other side of him, in the chair. “He was out of control. We had to stop him, and that was the only way.”

“Yeah, and I hit him over the head with my sword, so if he’s gonna be pissed at anyone it’ll be both of us,” said Gladio, with a grin. 

“And I doubt he’ll be happy with me for distracting him while Gladio did that,” said Ignis. 

“Really?” asked Prompto, hardly daring to believe it. “I mean, I still feel bad, but—”

“There’s no use worrying about it now, in any case,” said Ignis. “Noct is still quite unconscious as it stands. He won’t be able to shout at anyone for some time. And I doubt he’ll be happy once he realises what he did in that state either, so there’s no need to torture ourselves with what we might have done differently. The past is the past, as they say.” 

“Right,” said Prompto, still sniffing. Damn it he must seem pathetic. “Sorry about all that.”

“Don’t worry about it,” chuckled Gladio. “We’ve all been having kind of a rough time since we woke up.”

“Indeed. It was only natural to feel upset for accidentally hurting a friend.” 

Some of the weight lifted from Prompto’s shoulders. Noct really had been something else back there, now he thought of it clearly. Sure, he didn’t really deserve to be shot for it, but still—it wasn’t as bad as he thought it might have been. 

“What he was like back there,” Prompto began, not sure exactly where he was going with this, “before he exploded, I mean—those holes in the air—what were they? Did Noct make them?” 

Ignis and Gladio exchanged a look. Well that didn’t bode well. 

“I’m not sure, Prompto,” said Ignis. “Certainly it wasn’t natural, and we know Noct’s powers have acted out in unusual ways before.”

“I think it was him,” said Gladio. “We know he’s come back through time before, and some of the voices coming from inside—”

“Sounded like us,” said Prompto. “Yeah, I was thinking that. But what would that even mean? That he could go back in time whenever he wanted or something? Like—some of those might have sounded like us, but it didn’t sound like they were from the world Noct told us about.” 

There was a short silence at that. 

“I was thinking much the same thing,” said Ignis, frowning slightly. “If Noct can open portals to other worlds, worlds where things happened differently...”

“You think he might have done it before?” asked Gladio, raising an eyebrow. “I dunno about that. He seemed genuine enough when he was telling us about it. Plus he obviously had no idea what he was doing at the start.” 

Ignis gave a tired smile at that. “You’re quite right, Gladio, that was why I said I wasn’t sure, rather than suggesting the theory outright. I need some more time to weigh the evidence, though I still think what we saw was troubling.” 

“Oh no, I agree with you there,” said Gladio. “Whatever that was it was seriously messed up. Something with summoning Leviathan must have really sent him off the deep end.”

“Guess we won’t find out anymore until he wakes up,” sighed Prompto. He didn’t want to think about the fact he was so eager to avoid his best friend on the star, but given how awkward that encounter was probably going to be...could anyone really blame him? 

“Yes, we will have to wait and see,” said Ignis, frowning. “We must occupy ourselves until then. I forgot to ask Prompto, how are you holding up? We believe you got hit worse than any of us.”

“Just really tired,” said Prompto, unable to suppress a yawn. “And everything kind of aches, but otherwise I think I’m okay. More...stressed, than anything else.” 

“We felt much the same,” said Ignis, that tired look coming back onto his face. “That was quite the ordeal, for all of us, I think.”

“We’ll keep you posted if anything happens with Noct while you’re stuck here,” said Gladio, flashing him a grin as he got up off the bed. “I’m told you’re not allowed up yet.”

“Not yet,” said Prompto, narrowing his eyes, “but soon.”

“We’ll see about that,” he chuckled. 

“Please Prompto, we don’t need anymore recklessness at present, I think you’ll agree,” smiled Ignis. 

“Alright, alright,” sighed Prompto. “I’ll stay here. For now.”

“We’ll know if you wander off anywhere,” said Gladio, retreating towards the doorway. 

“Fine. I’ll be good. I promise.” 

* * *

When Noctis came to, it was with visions of blood and death and agony still flashing just behind his eyelids. What happened back there? He thought he still had it under control, but he remembered the rage flowing through him, unstoppable in its fury. He remembered trying his best to neutralise the power, hovering still above the ground as the ice spiralled out of control, only stopping things from getting any worse through pure force of will. Ha. What will? He’d lost control completely. The moment they’d come for him...

His friends. He’d hurt them, he knew he had. But when Prompto had shot his shoulder, something animalistic and uncontrollable took over, and the magic just surged out. He’d been lying there on the floor, still... He couldn’t have killed him. He wouldn’t let that happen. But part of him was afraid that he had. That the rage had been too much. That this time he’d done something truly unforgivable. 

And the others too, Ignis and Gladio—the last thing he remembered was lashing out with his magic, sending them both sprawling to the ground—it just _hurt_ so much, he didn’t know what he was doing—but that was no excuse. He knew it wasn’t. He didn’t want to wake up. To find out he might actually have hurt them—that would be unbearable... But he couldn’t keep running now. This was his last reality. His last chance. There wouldn’t be any running much longer. He had to take control this time. If he’d screwed it up then...he just had to own that. The pain would be incredible, but he couldn’t run away again. Now was the time for action. He already knew that. 

He forced his eyes open. 

Metal ceiling, hard, cold bed... Whirring sound from somewhere... He knew where he was. He was on an airship. He prayed he wasn’t on Ardyn’s airship—then he might go properly nuts. 

He pushed himself upright—sharp pain lanced through his shoulder. Shit. Prompto really had hit him. He’d been fine when he’d bashed his head in though...though that would have killed him if Bahamut hadn’t intervened. Noctis supposed it was probably beneath the guardian of the Beyond to heal all his injuries. Besides it was in his best interest that Noctis was as weak as possible when they finally faced each other. Bastard. 

It wasn’t just his shoulder that hurt either, he realised. His entire body hurt. But he was so used to that by now he’d barely noticed at first. He really hated this sort of pain, it just went on and on and on, impossible to shift... Six he’d be glad when all this was over. No damned pain in the Beyond. 

The fact he was in an airship was significant, he thought. It meant someone had rescued him—and probably not his friends given he’d ungratefully knocked them all unconscious ( _not_ dead) last he was aware. But who...

A sinking feeling manifested in his chest. There were only two groups of people knew to have access to an airship around here. The leaders of both groups were probably out for his head right now. Although the fact he wasn’t dead was significant. He was pretty sure he knew who’d rescued him by now. Not that that made things any easier. 

He was pretty sure Aranea was very, very angry with him for summoning Leviathan, and Noctis shuddered to think of the damaged he’d wrought while he could barely remember what he was doing. 

But he couldn’t run now. 

Well, perhaps he could. He swung his legs over the side of his bed, testing his weight on the floor. It hurt, but that was nothing exceptional. He managed to stand up straight without collapsing, which was all he needed. Alright then, task one. Find out exactly what happened while he was unconscious. Find his friends. 

There was a door in the corner of the room—the only one he could see. Well, that was probably as good a place to start as any. 

A kind of cold, clinical chill clung to the air in the ship, and Noctis got the uncomfortable impression he was in some sort of the hospital, even though he knew it wasn’t true. He still hated hospitals. Probably his own fault for ending up in them so much, but that was what happened when you were constantly on the run from an Empire trying to kill you for three hundred years. 

He couldn’t help but shiver as he made his way down the narrow corridor. The entire atmosphere reminded him of Zegnautus, only worse, because now he was stuck wearing hospital clothes, and he had no shoes and his feet were _freezing_ —all of this was awful, really. 

He felt almost child-like, wandering around like this with no protection. He didn’t dare try and summon a weapon after all that, and there hadn’t been any left lying in his room, so he was pretty stuck on that front. 

A _clang_ sounded from somewhere ahead of him. He jumped almost two feet backwards from the pure shock of it, his feet slamming painfully against the cold metal of the floor as he landed. The sound sent his ears ringing. Someone must have heard that. Damn it. 

He was trembling like he’d just received an electric shock. He really hated this. It was going to be like this for the next few days at least, he understood that by now. Couldn’t just spring back to life after what had happened, no matter how much he wished he could. 

There were footsteps coming from the other end of the corridor now. He tried to convince himself that whoever was at the other end probably wasn’t going to try and kill him for what he’d done, given he’d made it so far, but he didn’t quite believe himself. What if seeing him up and about just made them snap? If it was Aranea—he didn’t know her very well—what if she just lost it? Not that he could really blame her if she did, but still, what if—what if—

The person strode into view at last. It took him a moment to recognise her when she wasn’t in her uniform, but that was definitely Aranea alright. Shit. 

“Hey, what are you doing out of bed?” she asked, calling down the corridor. 

Well she hadn’t gone for immediate murder, that was good— 

She was rushing down the corridor. He’d judged too soon, this was the end, she was going to go for him—

“How’s that shoulder?” she asked, stopping just short of barrelling into him. 

Noctis tried to answer, but his heart was battering so hard against his ribcage it was hard to get his throat to comply. “C-could be worse, I figure,” he managed. 

“Huh,” said Aranea. Noctis was still expecting at any second to be punched in the face. “Guess that light must have been doing something, after all.” 

Noctis, still a bit dazed and wanting nothing more than to distract himself from the present, asked, “Lights?” 

“Yeah, that light coming out of you? Like back in Gralea. You were a sight for sore eyes, Prince. That guy—Ignis? Said it was your magic or something. Nothing I’d want to mess with, personally, but hey, that’s just me.” 

Personally, Noctis thought that he too would be better off if he didn’t mess with his magic, but back then he hadn’t really had much choice. Or this time, for that matter. 

But Aranea still seemed to be not-punching-him which was...odd. He didn’t like this. He felt like someone _should_ be punching him. 

“So, um, not to bring this down or anything, but—you aren’t mad? You seemed pretty mad when we last met. I was kind of expecting... Sorry, there’s no good way to put this. I know I ended accidentally getting people killed, are you not gonna, like, hurt me...for that?” 

Aranea wrinkled her nose a bit, and Noctis felt even colder and more out of place than before. “If I’d have wanted to kill you I’d have done it back you were glowing and unconscious and, y’know, not a threat to me. Don’t get me wrong, you _did_ fuck up back there.” 

Her expression turned to an intimidating glare. 

“But let’s face it there’s not exactly anyone left here who’s gonna call you to account for it, is there? And I know you’re still trying to save the world and shit so it’s not like I can just trap you here or something. How you make up for this is your own decision, but if you want my advice, I’d start with apologising to your friends. You roughed them up pretty bad back there. I think they’d appreciate an apology.”

“You mean—they’re still alive?” Noctis’s heart leapt. There was a chance he hadn’t screwed this up beyond repair then, thank the Six. 

“Course they’re still alive. D’you think I’d be this calm if you’d killed all of ‘em? They’re a few rooms away. I could take you to them, if you want. We, uh, might have to lay low though.” Aranea glanced back and forth down the corridor. “Pretty sure the doc would have my head if she saw me letting you walk around like this. So let’s hurry it along, yeah?” 

Noctis just nodded out of sheer relief. They were okay! Well—not dead—that was basically okay in his book. He hadn’t... They were going to be alright, that was the point. The dreadful tension that had been weighing him down for the last few hours vanished in an instant. The pain did not. 

“You sure you’re okay?” asked Aranea, glancing back at him as he winced. 

“Just a few aches and pains. Nothing serious.” 

“If you say so,” she said, raising an eyebrow. 

They finally reached the end of the corridor and emerged into another empty metal room. 

“You ever think about decorating these things?” asked Noctis, purely to keep his mind off the pain. “They look so grim like this.” 

Aranea chuckled. “Now that’s a novel idea. Unfortunately the army doesn’t employ artists so far as I know.”

“Don’t any of you have hobbies?”

“Well me and the boys do, obviously. But up ‘til, I dunno, pretty much _right now_ our main company was just metal, and the MTs get surprisingly antsy when they don’t like the environment.”

“Really?” Noctis couldn’t picture an MT getting angry about anything. 

“Or when they think you’re breaking the rules, at least. I’m pretty sure they’d count painting the inside of the ship as coming under the ‘rule-breaking’ heading.”

Noctis was suddenly taken back to the cause of this whole debacle. Those MTs he’d blown up earlier... And they were on a moving airship right now, he was fairly sure. So...what had happened to Altissia? 

“What...happened down there, exactly? After I blew up, I mean.” 

Noctis couldn’t see Aranea’s face as she pushed the door open, but he noticed the way her back tensed up at the question.

“Well, your little show with Leviathan took out most of the MTs in the city, I’ll give you that,” she sighed. “Unfortunately, those weren’t the only things causing trouble down there. Daemons just love their debris and dark hiding places, let me tell you.” 

Noctis could feel a headache building in his forehead. “So, we didn’t save the city then?” 

For a moment Aranea’s expression became very strained, and Noctis got the impression she was on the verge of snapping at him. Then she exhaled. “No. You didn’t.”

They were silent as they moved through the next room. Images of the destruction he’d seen before he’d lost control were flashing through Noctis’s head. So much death... All those bodies... He’d thought he’d be able to save Altissia this time. Apparently not. 

“Some of the people got away,” said Aranea, leaning up against the wall next to the next door. “Some of them seemed to reckon you’d saved ‘em. Don’t know how you managed to pull that off but there you go. Not a complete and total failure.”

“If reassuring’s what you’re going for, it’s not really working,” said Noctis, resisting the urge to snap. He knew he’d failed. He didn’t need this right now. 

“I’m not. Just letting you know the facts.”

Silence again. 

“Your friends are just through there, if you want to see them,” said Aranea, lightly kicking the door with her foot. “Well, I’ll be going then, don’t be a stranger.” 

She left with a swish of her cape, and Noctis was left staring at the blank door right in front of him. His friends were through there. He knew he needed to apologise. He needed to do so much, to make up for the damage he’d done, but... He took a deep breath. It was okay. He could do this. He _had_ to.

He pushed the door open. 

It was a small room, not much in, like almost all the others. In the corner though, by a high window, was a bed. And in the bed was Prompto. Noctis flinched back almost automatically, seeing how pale and tired he looked, but as he scanned his face he didn’t notice any physical injuries other than a cut on his forehead. 

His fault. He tried to ignore the voice in his head. 

As he opened the door Prompto didn’t look up at first—just another sign he was out of it, but when he did his eyes immediately widened. 

“Noct?” he whispered, almost as though he couldn’t believe his eyes. 

“It’s me,” said Noctis, never wishing more that he had more eloquence at his disposal. 

Prompto didn’t seem to mind though, because he beamed, but then a frown came over his face. “Are you supposed to be up? You look kind of...”

Prompto’s voice trembled as he trailed off, and as Noctis moved a little closer he noticed tears forming in Prompto’s eyes. Damn it. His fault. 

“I’m okay,” he said, perching himself lightly on the side of the bed. “What about you? I heard...things got pretty bad down there.”

“You don’t remember?” asked Prompto, incredulously. 

It was like he’d dealt a physical blow to Noctis’s chest. He tried to ignore how hard it was to breathe. 

“No, wait, I’m sorry,” Prompto said quickly, his eyes flicking over Noctis. “I didn’t mean it like that—”

“I remember. Some of it, anyway. It all went in flashes...I’m not one hundred percent sure what happened but I remember...hurting you.”

Prompto looked down, refusing to look him in the eyes. “Yeah,” he muttered. “I did shoot you first though.”

Noctis shrugged, ignoring the pain that went lancing through his shoulder. “It’s no big thing. Trust me, I’ve had worse.”

“You...aren’t mad then?” asked Prompto, his voice trembling. 

Noctis frowned. How could he be mad at Prompto when this was all his fault? That would be deeply unfair. 

“Why would I be mad at you? You were trying to stop me destroying the city. You did the right thing. I’m the one who’s fault this is, not you.” 

Prompto hadn’t really thought he’d be mad, had he? How hypocritical would he have to be to blame the others for this? Prompto was still refusing to look him in the eye. Had he really been that bad this time? There was a sinking feeling in his stomach. 

“I’m not angry,” he said, as quietly and gently as he could. “I promise.” Prompto chuckled quietly, though it sounded closer to a sob. “Hey, come here.” Noctis pulled him into a hug, he noticed the way Prompto tensed up as he did. Was he...seriously, afraid of him? Noctis cautiously released him. 

Okay, ignoring how his insides were trying to turn themselves inside-out, how was he going to deal with this? It was hard to find an answer when all he could think was that he should run away and never come back. He might not have left lasting physical damage, but if Prompto was like this...

“So I did hurt you, didn’t I? When I lost control back there.”

Prompto had no reaction. Noctis wasn’t used to dealing with this. Prompto was shutting down, he could see that, but...he’d never seen that happen to him before. Or if it had, then Noctis had been too far-gone to notice it. Damn it, that was what he usually did. How would he want to be dealt with, in this situation? Well, what he usually wanted most was to be left alone, although that never really took him out of it. 

But then...he was the one who was causing this, wasn’t he? It was, he’d concluded, his own fault, after all. If he went away maybe Prompto would go back to normal? 

“Okay, I’m leaving now,” he said, rising from the bed, putting his hands in the air where Prompto could see them. “Not gonna hurt you. And...I’m sorry. I’m really, really sorry.” He hated the way his voice trembled as he said that last part. 

Prompto made no move to stop him. Okay then, time to leave. That would make all of this better. 

He withdrew from the room as unobtrusively as he could, barely making a sound as he shut the door behind him. He could feel it all rushing to catch up with him—the pain, the fact he’d screwed this up so badly, that he’d _hurt_ Prompto, and probably Ignis and Gladio too—no. He couldn’t cry here. He was out in the open—well. In another of the million empty rooms on this ship. He wanted somewhere no one would find him. 

The cold was beginning to sink in again, somehow worse this time. Good. That would keep him awake, at least. There were two doors before him, one leading back the way he’d come, from his room, the other going somewhere else. He moved over to the other door. 

Voices just behind it. No, he couldn’t go that way. Back to his room then. 

The cold metallic floor froze his feet as he kept moving forward. Didn’t they have heating in this place? MTs probably didn’t need to keep warm though. He was conscious of a dull pain slowly building behind his eyes the longer he tried to avoid thinking about things. He needed to find somewhere to hide, a broom closet or something, just avoid all of...this. 

His hand brushed over one of the doors he was moving by. No voices behind it. That was a good sign. He paused just in front of it, his hand on the handle, painful to the touch. He felt as though the eyes of all the world were upon him. Couldn’t he just escape all this? Just for a little while? 

He opened the door. A broom closet. How convenient. There wasn’t much space in there, and it was obvious enough the ship hadn’t been cleaned in an age, but Noctis crept within, closing the door behind him, finding a space on the floor to sit, just under some mops. He could feel the cold of the floor through the thin fabric of his white hospital trousers. He straightened his legs out on the floor. Even colder. His feet were so numb he could barely feel his toes. 

He breathed out slowly. A cloud of mist showed his breath. He was still human in that regard then. He still had to breathe. Six, he wished he didn’t.

He closed his eyes and tilted his head back, resting it against the hard, uncomfortable wall. Tears were already beginning to fall down his cheeks, he could feel them, warm against the dreadful cold of everything else. Why was he still alive after all that? Why would Bahamut save him when at his lowest ebb?

Because he couldn’t afford to let him die. Not yet. 

Arrogant bastard. The anger provided a tiny bit of warmth, and Noctis tried to cling to it—this was all Bahamut’s fault, all of it—but he simply couldn’t. He knew his mind wouldn’t believe such lies, even if he wanted to with all his heart. But he couldn’t escape responsibility. Not this time. 

He’d summoned Leviathan as a result of his carelessness. She’d killed hundreds of people out of sheer spiteful fury. He’d probably killed more in his stupid, self-destructive bid to stop her. Was it worth it? Had he helped, coming here? 

No. 

What was it about Altissia that brought out the destruction of all earthly good in him? He was a fool. He ought never to have come back. But would he have forgiven himself if he hadn’t? Perhaps not. But more people would be alive, of that much he was certain. 

The tears were coming faster now, and he curled up into a ball, resting his head on his knees, his arms folded across his chest even though it hurt his shoulders, trying to repress the sobs spilling out of him. Why couldn’t he just die? If everything he tried to do always went wrong, why couldn’t he just end it? All he wanted was to rest. All he wanted was to be free of the massive responsibility pressing down on his shoulders like a leaden weight, trying to bore him into the ground. 

Couldn’t the Gods have picked someone better for this? He’d failed so many times now. Wasn’t it foolish to think this time he might succeed? 

He could barely breathe, the force of the crying and the pain that went ricocheting across his chest every time he sobbed—could this please just kill him? That or the cold. It was so, so cold...

It was there in his chest, an empty hollow space he usually tried to ignore, now biting at his insides just like everything else. It was as though his entire being was rebelling against him, his magic, his flesh, his mind... How was he supposed to endure this? 

His hands were trembling, and there was a burning at his fingertips—wait, what? He hadn’t summoned...oh shit. Oh shit, it was out of control now. He should have known better than this, he should have known he had to be careful—the magic wasn’t his anymore, it just flowed through him, out of control, out of his grasp. 

The pain was extending to his arms now. He pulled one hand out—flames seared themselves into his vision, his heartbeat rushing in his ears. If he didn’t do something he might blow up this entire ship without meaning to. 

Then his friends—his friends...

There was only one thing he could do, in this situation. He took his hands, timebombs that they were, and pressed them into his chest, ignoring that they burnt his clothes and his skin, ignoring all of it, willing the magic to go back to what it once was. 

The burning was getting worse. He would not explode, he wouldn’t let it. It was fighting him, clawing and scratching and burning at him, trying to get free, trying to release itself, but he was stronger—he _had_ to be _stronger_ —

Something snapped then. The sensation wasn’t unfamiliar to Noctis. A second of blinding, brilliant pain, and then... nothing. 

* * *

He had died, he was quite sure of that, but...where was he? 

He wasn’t where he usually was—if there was such a thing in this twisted half-world. He wasn’t in the field of sylleblossoms. There was a kind of blueish tinge to the world around him. 

“Where am I?” he asked—or tried to at least. He heard his own voice but he quickly realised that he had no mouth to speak with. He tried to look down but he wasn’t sure he had eyes anymore. It was more like—adjusting his focus, than looking somewhere. 

“Hello?”

Suddenly there was a quiet rushing sound from somewhere, and the landscape began to shift. The blue began to move, to gather in front of him, leaving impenetrable darkness all around. A figure appeared before him. It was...a woman. A woman he thought he knew. He’d seen her before, he was sure of it. 

“Gentiana?” he asked. 

He couldn’t see any features on her face. In fact he couldn’t see any features at all, she was shining so brilliantly—he knew she was a woman though—he knew... _her_. But he didn’t recognise her. Not at all. 

“I am not Gentiana,” said the woman, a smile in her voice. Yes, now he listened she sounded quite different to Gentiana, or Luna for that matter. Her voice was deeper, and her accent more like his own. “Though I suppose I should be flattered to be compared to a divine being.” 

Yes, he knew where he recognised her from now, he’d heard her voice before...

“I know you. You’re the one in my dreams, the one who calls to me, brings me...back.” Who was she though?

“Yes,” she said. “With Gentiana’s help I could finally find a way to speak to you, though I’ve watched you for years. You’ve struggled through so much, Noctis. I am so proud of you.” 

With those words, some piece he was missing before, some knowledge just beyond his reach, clicked into place. He knew who she was now. 

“You’re...you’re my...mom.” 

She smiled, and finally he could see through the light to her face at last. It was like looking in a mirror. She had the same eyes as him, the same slight, smooth face, the same smile (though it had been ages since he’d seen the expression on himself). When he saw his older face he saw only his dad, but now he understood what people meant when they’d told him he looked just like his mom. 

“You’re like me,” he said, feeling very stupid. He’d known that, he’d seen the single picture they had of her, but to see it up close—to see her in real life, it was...different. 

“Yes,” she said, her smile not fading for a second, “I think you rather have taken after me, instead of your father.”

A million questions surfaced in Noctis’s mind, one after the other. How was she here? Had she been watching him this whole time? If she could then could everyone who’d died? What about their souls being erased the first time? Why hadn’t she been able to talk to him sooner? 

More and more popped up the longer he thought about it, but the only thing he could manage to force out of his mouth was, “But I went totally crazy! How can you... I almost blew up an airship because I was upset!” 

His mom’s expression turned slightly more melancholy, but the smile didn’t leave her face. “I’m your mother, Noctis. I’ll always love you, no matter what...questionable or otherwise dangerous things you may do. And how could I blame you for your recent actions when your power is no longer under your control? Can you honestly tell me you’d have deliberately blown up that ship if you could produce magic of your own accord?” 

“No but...I know it’s not under control. I should have been...more careful, I guess.”

She moved towards him, placing a warm, gentle hand on his shoulder. She was the same height as him, he noticed. “You were upset. You’d just accidentally caused much harm—I’d have been more concerned if you hadn’t felt anything at all. That you can still feel regret and guilt over your actions after all this time is merely a sign you are still human. You would not want to lose that, I don’t think.”

She brushed a strand of hair out of his face with her shining hand, and all at once Noctis felt simultaneously grateful and completely, profoundly overwhelmed. He’d used to wonder about his mother more when he was younger, and her absence felt more present, but as he got older that absence was accompanied by so many other things that were missing in his life he barely noticed it at all. And now he knew. It was strange but also...wonderful. He could feel tears brimming to his eyes. 

“I’m so sorry I have not been here, Noctis,” she said. “I wish I could have known you, helped to guide you as you grew up. I know the burden was great for Regis once he discovered the prophecy. I so dearly wish I had been there, that I could have helped, but...it is what it is. We all have regrets.” 

“How _are_ you here?” asked Noctis, gripping her hand, half afraid if he didn’t she might disappear again. “You said you’d been watching me—I don’t understand...” 

She squeezed his hand, as though she knew what he was afraid of. “Whatever you did to cause this—all of this,” she said, gesturing around her to the glistening void that characterised the place between the real world and the beyond, “it did something to us too. We who inhabited the Beyond, suddenly we became aware of your world again, closer to it, somehow.” 

“I was right then,” said Noctis, feeling a little breathless. “Whenever I died it was all reset.”

“The living world, yes. But not us. I think that linked us to your world closer than ever before, you see, because each time some would join us, but whenever you died, Noctis, it would warp our world, drawing all those souls back from the Beyond, leaving us in an eternal state of flux.” 

“So you...remember all of it then. All of what happened?” Noctis’s head was spinning. Of course it made sense that the dead would remember—they had no reason to change but—it was just so incredible in scope...

“Yes,” she said, nodding slowly. “As did the souls who returned, when they did. Your friend, Ravus—he began to retain some memories towards the end, I think.” 

Noctis felt a flush rising to his cheeks. “I did let him die quite a lot, didn’t I?” 

“Indeed, I must say Sylva is not very pleased with you on that account, but no doubt you will be able to speak with her yourself soon enough.”

So much for resting in the Beyond. He was not looking forward to that. 

“But it was to his advantage, in the end. To die weakened the hold the Astrals had over him, you see. It made the reset less effective.”

“H-he doesn’t remember anything now, right?” asked Noctis, panic rising in his chest as he recalled all the times he’d let Ravus die or otherwise been insufferable towards him. 

“No, I think not,” said his mom, with laughter in her voice. “Though he had grown quite fond of you of his own accord, I believe. You have an ally in him, this time.”

“That’s...good to know,” sighed Noctis. “But you still haven’t told me how you’re here. Gentiana did this, you said?”

“Indeed,” she said, with a distant smile. “I have met Gentiana on a few occasions in the Beyond—as a Messenger she is one of the few who can traverse between worlds. Always I have petitioned her help to reach you—I even asked Sylva to help me, a few times, but the will of the Glacian supersedes that of a dead Oracle, I’m told.”

“So she refused?”

“She had to. Until now.” 

Noctis remembered her words when he’d met her in the field—that she was freed from Shiva’s control—but also blocked from entering the mortal world. 

“Shiva doesn’t control her anymore,” he said, slowly putting the pieces together. 

“So she was able to grant my wish—in a manner of speaking,” his mom said, stroking his arm. “I was never able to fully speak to you in the Beyond, just warn you, if things were particularly desperate. But now I can.”

“Because I...died. Didn’t I? Properly, this time.” 

A melancholy frown came over his mother’s face. “Yes. Bahamut has interfered the last few times you got close, but this time... Burning your body to ashes is hard to heal, Noctis. Normally you would be waiting with Gentiana, but she has been weakened by the Glacian’s recent actions. She asked me to stand here in her stead.”

“I’m glad you’re here.” 

He didn’t know why but he just felt...so calm, in her presence. Not like before. 

“As am I,” she said, her smile returning. “It was wonderful to meet you, Noctis. I have long wished to do so.”

Noctis felt the atmosphere begin to shift, even as she said it. “I’m going back now, aren’t I?” 

His mother pulled him close, wrapping her warm, shining arms around him, and Noctis felt calmer than he had in a long time. “Yes, my darling. But it is not so terrible as you think. There is happiness to be found down there for you, I promise. And I pray that you find it before you must join us again.” 

“Mom, I—” He couldn’t finish the sentence, the tears choking up his throat, so he just hugged her back, holding as tightly as he could, even as he felt her getting further and further away. 

“I love you,” she whispered. 

Then she was gone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, a lot's happening in this chapter! I've been wanting to write Aulea for a while—her presence is so neglected in Noct's life, and what with his connection to the Beyond, I felt it would only be logical to include her—especially with Noct feeling as terrible as he is. Hopefully he'll get the same forgiveness from the bros...whenever it is he actually decides to tell them what happened.
> 
> Thank you to everyone still reading, and I hope you enjoyed this chapter. If so, please let me know!


	15. There is no escape

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Previously: In the aftermath of Leviathan's attack, Prompto comes to terms with having shot Noct. Noctis wakes from his coma and goes searching for the others. Aranea tells him of the situation on the lake, and guides him to Prompto's room, where they finally reunite. Prompto, however, is still overwhelmed with guilt, and Noctis, blaming himself, withdraws. His magic is overwhelmed in the face of his distress and causes him to self-destruct. In the space beyond he finally meets a familiar shadow that's been watching him for a long time.

Breathe in. Cold air burned his lungs—or was that just the remnants of the fire he’d caused? He couldn’t stop shaking, his fingers were burnt and blacked, stretched out before him, bone sticking out through flesh. He wasn’t finished yet. He could feel it, his lungs, his ribs, still exposed to the air, searing pain as his flesh contorted over them, rebuilding his body through all the destruction he’d caused it. He buried his hands in his hair—still growing back on his head, and tried to concentrate on breathing. He was still breathing. He was still alive. That was what was important right now. 

His chest shuddered involuntarily as the gap was finally sealed, and he was whole once again. He tried to stand up. His knees crunched against the ground as they fell out from under him.

Yeah, that had probably been too much after literally dying.

He sat up on his knees, looking around, trying to work out what had happened. He was still in the broom closet, although the brooms were now ashes around his feet. Or that was just bits of him that hadn’t reconstituted? He tried not to think about that. 

He held out his arms in front of him. Another twinge in his shoulder. Godsdammit, hadn’t Bahamut bothered to fix that? He probably had no reason to though, thinking about it. His arms were shaking beneath the white cotton of his hospital shirt—where on earth they’d gotten one of these in the ruins of Altissia he had no idea, although Aranea had said there was a doctor on board hadn’t she? Distracted again. His fingers still looked a little blackened, but they were fully formed now, and from what he could tell he’d been healed enough he wasn’t covered from head to toe in third-degree burns. He was not thanking Bahamut for that. It was all his damned fault anyway. 

He took another deep, shuddering breath. The cold was a welcome relief against his skin now, soothing some of the dreadful ache beneath it. He staggered upright, then immediately noticed he had a problem. His shoulder was wet. He put a trembling hand up to feel it—warm beneath his fingers, and as he withdrew his hand dark red liquid stained them. His wound had re-opened. His _gunshot_ wound had reopened. Shit. What he wouldn’t give to just have a normal fucking day, for _once_... But never mind that. He needed medical attention, and quickly. 

He pushed open the door to the broom closet—the hallway was empty, mercifully. He might need immediate medical attention, but he really didn’t want anyone asking what he’d been doing in there to get covered in bits of ash and reopen his wound again. He was not up to answering questions like that today. 

Okay, so, where should he go from here? He wasn’t going back to Prompto’s room, he’d literally rather die again, so...back to his own then? Maybe the doctor would be looking for him now, who knows. He had no idea how long he’d been ‘out’ while in the cupboard, and it was probably in his best interest to get back there anyway. 

The slick warmth of his own blood was spreading rapidly from his shoulder down his chest. The corridor was becoming oddly hazy. What was it you were supposed to do in these situations? Apply pressure—that was it. He tried to raise his right hand to press into the wound, but it was oddly numb and unresponsive. No good. His left hand was better, but not by much, and he pressed as hard as he could into his shoulder, trying to ignore the pain and the unpleasant stickiness beneath his fingers. 

Six he must look like a wreck. He staggered down the corridor as fast as he thought his legs would take him without falling over, trying to remember which room he’d come out of. Not that one, not that one... There! 

He rushed over to it, elbowing the handle down, not really wanting to get blood all over it, and pushing the door open. He was not happy with the scene that greeted him. He was staring at the very familiar backs of Gladio and Ignis, the two people he _least_ wanted to see right now, and someone small in a white coat that he presumed to be the doctor. One thing. Why couldn’t he just have one, fucking thing?

“Who—” Ignis began, turning around—wait was that a cane in his hand, oh shit, oh shit, had he done that? Had he been the one to blind Ignis this time—no no no no—

Then he turned around fully, and Noctis could see his eyes were wide open, obscured only by his normal glasses, not sunglasses. Thank the Six. His heart was battering against his ribcage, and he was fairly certain this adrenaline was not helping with his injury. 

“Noct?” asked Ignis, his face going deathly pale as he looked at him. “What—”

“Get over here,” said the doctor, pushing by Ignis and grabbing Noctis by his collar, wrenching him towards the bed. For someone of her height she was very strong. “Sit,” she commanded, and he did so. This was not the time to cause a fight. 

“I see you’ve been applying pressure,” she said, eyeing his hand as she reached into a box and pulled out a long length of bandages. “Good. You’ve gone very pale, do you feel any other symptoms, like dizziness—do you know where you are right now?” 

“Of course I do,” he grumbled. “I’m on an airship.”

Though it was difficult to get to that conclusion. His head felt very heavy, and it was hard to focus on anything but the fact he was getting very bloody and he felt very miserable. 

The doctor reached out to remove his hand from his shoulder, and Noctis made a concerted effort not to wince as the pain redoubled. “We need to get that shirt off, are you capable of doing that yourself?”

Noctis tried to reach up to his collar with his right hand, but it just wasn’t working, so he elected to use his left hand to pull his shirt over his head. Usually he’d be moderately embarrassed at having to strip for a stranger, but right now he was more concerned about possibly bleeding out mere minutes after he’d died already. Was there a time limit to these things? Would Bahamut refuse to revive him dying so quickly in succession? No, probably not. That would be foolish even for Bahamut. 

“Right, that’s your bandages done,” said the doctor, bringing him abruptly back to reality. “Hmm.” 

She reached out a hand, and pulled his right arm upwards, pressing her fingers to his wrist. After a moment she said, “No, that’s no good at all.” 

Noctis was tempted to ask what wasn’t good, but she spoke too quickly for him to get a word in edgeways. “Lie down, and get your feet over the end of the bed, so they’re in the air, can you do that?”

Noctis obediently did so. Normally he’d chafe at being told what to do like this, but he was tangentially aware this was for his own good, and besides that he appreciated her asking rather than just manhandling him into place like other doctors he’d known. 

“What the hell happened to you?” asked Gladio, giving Noctis a bit of a jolt. He’d forgotten there were other people in the room, what with now dizzy his shoulder was making him. 

“Long story,” he said, aware his words were coming out a bit slower than he’d like them to. “Magic. Hate it.” 

“Why on earth were you using magic, Noct?” asked Ignis, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“I didn’t mean to!” Noctis tried to insist, but it was hard to sound insistent when your words were coming out all wrong. 

“Why was he even out of bed, is the question I’d like to ask,” said the doctor, eyeing him with deep disapproval. “You’re an adult, aren’t you? You should know better.”

Noctis just glared at her. He’d been fine when he woke up. It was just the small matter of blowing himself up that had caused this, and really, that could happen anywhere. 

“Noctis is rather restless, Dr Salix,” said Ignis, not even bothering to glare at Noctis this time. “No doubt he wanted to find one of us.” 

Shut. Up. 

“We’ll be chatting later,” said Gladio, glaring down at him from the side of the bed. Noctis could already feel a familiar rage boiling through him, and for a moment he almost wished Gladio _did_ know what he’d done, just so he’d understand the gravity of trying to threaten him right now. 

“Whatever,” he muttered aloud, trying to contain the boiling hatred. Six, he hated this. 

Slowly, very slowly, he thought he was finally coming back to himself, properly. Ignis, Gladio and the doctor had left now, and he was staring at the ceiling, not quite sure if he was awake or asleep, trying to bring the world back into focus again. So much had happened—his friends were alright though, he knew that now, and that was the most important thing. He tried not to think about all the death he’d caused below—he didn’t want to blow himself up again, no matter how much his brain told him he deserved it. 

And he’d met...his mother. He still couldn’t quite comprehend that. He hadn’t thought of her in what felt like ages, and now...he’d met her. Properly met her. Why hadn’t he done that before, the first time he died? He couldn’t remember that far back. All that period of his life (well, death) was a strange haze to him, no matter how much he tried to focus on it. 

But it had been...nice, in that moment. To know there was still someone out there watching. Someone out there who, in spite of everything he’d done, miraculously still seemed to care about him. He hadn’t believed it possible. Yet here he was. 

He wanted to see her again, but that would have to wait for some other time. He wasn’t that keen on dying again so soon. 

The ceiling resolved itself fully before him again. He was back. 

He forced himself into an upright position, his shoulder now aching terribly, he tried to lean on his left hand instead, but it seemed as though the pain was there to stay. All his own silly fault anyway. 

At that moment, the door slid open. Ignis walked into the room, followed closely behind by Gladio. Noctis felt his heart sink in his chest. This was not going to be fun. 

“Ah, Noct,” said Ignis, taking a seat by the side of the bed, “I see you’re up. How are you feeling?” 

Noctis told himself there was no real point in lying now. “Pretty awful, honestly. You know. Got shot. Wrecked half of Altissia by summoning Leviathan. I know I fucked up back there so I guess...I don’t really know what else to say.” 

“Was it deliberate?” asked Gladio, who had taken his place standing at the end of Noctis’s bed and leaning on the railings. 

“What? Leviathan?” Gladio nodded. “No. I...I screwed up trying to hit some MTs with a fire-blast, and it ended up hitting me, and knocked me out—when I came to again...there she was.”

“You summoned her while unconscious?” Gladio’s expression creased into a frown. 

“Yeah,” muttered Noctis. “Or something like that anyway. I think she was obliged to help me after I gained her allegiance and everything, I didn’t really...I didn’t ask for her to show up, let’s put it like that.” 

Ignis clasped his uninjured shoulder in a reassuring manner. “We appreciate you don’t have as much control over your magic as you used to Noctis.” 

A strange mix of guilt and anger rushed through him. 

“No, it’s still my fault. I know I screwed up back there. You can’t just—people died out there. I know they did. And it’s my fault.” He took a deep breath, trying to stop his voice from trembling. “I can’t just ignore that. We need to finish this quickly—before things get worse.” 

Ignis and Gladio exchanged a look. That did not bode well. 

“About that, Noct,” Ignis said quietly, “do you remember what happened, while you were...in that state? Prompto said you only recalled flashes.” 

They’d spoken to him then. Great. 

“He was right,” Noctis said hesitantly. “Why? Did something else happen?” He couldn’t really imagine what was worse than Leviathan going on a rampage, but he suspected by the looks on Ignis and Gladio’s faces it was something pretty big. 

“When you were on the lake, we observed...something strange.”

“That’s a nice way of putting it,” snorted Gladio. 

“Strange how?” asked Noctis, growing more and more confused by the second. 

“It’s hard to explain.” Ignis was refusing to look him in the eyes. “I’m still not quite sure what we saw, but it was like...there was a hole, in the air. A tear, a...portal, of some kind.” 

Noctis could feel the hair on the back of his neck stand on end, hear every heartbeat in his chest. He’d done this before, he knew that. But if they’d seen... If they’d guessed...

“What else?” he whispered, barely able to muster his voice to speak.

Gladio frowned at him, but Noctis barely registered it. “We heard things,” he said. “Voices.”

Oh Six, it was all coming apart. “Whose voices?” 

They exchanged another glance. Ignis was the one who spoke. “Well that’s the thing, Noct—they sounded like our own.” 

He’d really done it then. Opened a portal to another world. He didn’t know he could do that without dying—maybe it was because Bahamut was stopping him this time... But...that wasn’t what was important. They knew—well, knew part of it, at least. How far could he go with this? Could he really lie to them now? After all this? This was...too much. 

“Do you know anything about it?” asked Gladio, looking straight at him, his gaze unyielding. Noctis felt like he was staring straight through him, right down to his soul. 

“I...” He closed his eyes. He hadn’t had nearly enough time to think this through. “I’m...”

He pressed his fists into his forehead—his head ached—ached like it had before, before he’d been released from his chains. Or was that just him? He wasn’t sure.

“Are you alright, Noct?” asked Ignis, his hand on his shoulder once more. “I know all this is sudden.” 

“What did you hear?” he asked, suddenly desperate for information—if he could just pass all this off as the first timeline—

“It was hard to tell,” said Ignis. “But they spoke about you—stopping you, I believe.” 

“There were other voices too. We heard you, Noct,” said Gladio. 

This could be bad. “What was I saying?” 

“Leviathan was talking to you,” said Gladio. “You said you didn’t care.”

Yes...he remembered that. It had been during the dark times. When he couldn’t control the violence (and he could control it now, no matter what anyone said). 

“Do you remember, Noct?” asked Ignis, his voice quiet. 

“I...I’m not sure,” he breathed. “It’s all...so confused.”

“Don’t strain yourself,” Ignis squeezed his shoulder a little tighter. “You’ve been through a lot.”

“I—” Why were words so difficult all of a sudden. “I wish I could help you, but...” 

“We understand, Noct.” 

They didn’t though, they never would. Six, he hated these lies. 

“Ignis is right,” sighed Gladio. “You should take it easy for now. Looks like you got pretty roughed up there.” He pointedly looked at Noctis’s shoulder. Right. He wasn’t wearing a shirt or anything. He glanced down at his shoulder. Oh Six, that was a lot of blood through his bandages...

“Yeah,” he mumbled, his head suddenly feeling as though it was filled with cotton wool. “Must have overdone it earlier.” 

“Prompto is fine, by the way,” said Gladio, apparently not noticing how shaky Noctis was feeling. “You just gave him a bit of a shock back there.” 

“Indeed,” said Ignis, his grip on Noctis’s shoulder tightening. “Are you feeling alright, Noct?”

“Yeah—yeah,” said Noctis, forcing his gaze away from his shoulder. “Didn’t think there’d be that much blood.” He took a deep, shuddering breath, trying to steady himself. 

“Do you need to lie down?” asked Gladio, his gaze suddenly sharp again. 

“I...yes.” Noctis flattened himself onto his pillow. If there was one thing he’d learnt from this debacle it was that he shouldn’t push it—not while he was this fragile. The bed seemed to be the only warm thing in the room, though the rough cotton scratched against his back. 

“Do you want us to get the doctor?” asked Ignis, his face coming blearily into view. 

“No, I’ll be fine in a minute,” said Noctis. Well, that was how it usually worked anyway. 

Ignis said something to Gladio, now also standing over him. Noctis strongly suspected he’d been sent to get a doctor anyway. 

Someone shook his shoulder. “Still there, Noct?” asked Ignis’s voice. 

“Can’t get rid of me that easily,” he muttered, his words coming out all slow again. 

“I’m sorry, we shouldn’t have pushed you.”

“S’fine,” said Noctis, trying limply to get his arm up to his head to brush his hair out of his face. “My own fault. Should have realised there’d be blood. Loads of blood earlier... Just being an idiot.”

“You’re not an idiot, Noct,” sighed Ignis. Noctis thought Ignis should really stop sighing that sort of thing. It meant he didn’t believe him. 

“Where are we?” asked Noctis, feeling a change of subject would be beneficial, if only to keep him grounded in reality again. 

“In an airship,” said Ignis, sounding even more worried than before. 

“No, genius,” muttered Noctis, relieved he could accurately intone the scathing quality to that remark, “in the sky—where are we _over_?” 

Okay, maybe that was less than eloquent, but at least he’d gotten it out.

“Ah, I see,” said Ignis, and Noctis could mentally envision him pushing his glasses up his nose, even if he couldn’t actually see it. Were his eyes closed now? He wasn’t sure. He thought they were. “We’re still over Altissia. We...weren’t sure where you wanted to go next.” 

Well after that miserable failure Noctis wasn’t sure either. He’d planned to go on to Lucis, but...

“Is there anyone left we can help, or...” He wasn’t sure why he was asking. Even if there were, why would they accept help from him? He’d just wrecked half their city. 

“Noct, you’re in no state to go on another rescue mission.” Ignis’s voice sounded very tired. There was that too. 

“I just—” Just what? Wanted to indulge his hero complex some more? Yeah, nice one, Noctis. “...wanted to know.” 

There was a brief silence. Was Ignis still there? He was so tired...

“I doubt it,” said Ignis’s voice. Noctis reached out a hand—it’d help to know where he was, at least. Ignis grasped it, his hand oddly warm, given how freezing the room was. “Noct, you’re like ice!” he hissed, though he didn’t let go. 

“This place is freezing,” Noctis complained. “Don’t they have central heating on-board? It’s been freezing ever since I got on.” 

“It’s not that cold, Noctis.” He felt a warm hand on his forehead. The hand flinched back a little as it came into contact with his skin. Great.

“How can you not feel cold?” he asked, cracking one eye open to try and get a sense of his bearings. “It’s like winter up here. Everything’s so...” He gave an involuntary shiver as the door hissed open, letting in more cold air. 

“What’s the damage then?” came the voice of the doctor from the doorway. “More blood loss?”

“I believe he’s running a temperature, Dr Salix,” said Ignis, deeply officiously, in Noctis’s opinion. “He says he’s cold.”

“Cold?” asked the doctor, skeptically. He didn’t need this right now. How could they not feel how cold it was?

“It’s like, sub-zero on this stupid ship,” he muttered, forcing both eyes open. “I don’t understand how you can’t feel the cold.”

Suddenly something was being shoved unceremoniously in his ear, and it was only Ignis grabbing his arm that stopped him from lunging at it. He heard an exceptionally loud beep. The doctor withdrew the thermometer and clicked her tongue loudly. 

“Can’t be right,” she muttered, looking him up and down.

“What does it say?” asked Gladio, trying to peer over her shoulder. 

“You’re 35 degrees—bordering on hypothermia,” she said, scowling. 

She too reached out to put an absolutely boiling hand on his forehead. “You’re burning!” he hissed, flinching away. 

She frowned even more. “This isn’t right at all. The ship’s 20C, there’s no way he could be this cold...”

“20C?” muttered Noctis, feeling even more like he was going insane than before. “It’s not 20C. There’s no way it’s 20C. That’s bullshit.” 

“Noctis,” hissed Ignis.

“It’s not, I’m freezing!”

“Pure blood loss couldn’t have caused this,” said Doctor Salix, frowning at him from the side of the bed. “There must be something else...” 

“I’m not crazy,” said Noctis, though whether to convince the doctor or himself he wasn’t sure. 

“I don’t think you could fake having a temperature,” said Doctor Salix, smiling for the first time he’d seen her. “But it can’t have just been caused by the ambient temperature on the ship. There must be something else...am I correct to suggest it might be something supernatural in origin? The Commodore said you had power over such things,” she said, looking directly at him. 

Could it be possible? He wasn’t feeling any more of a drain on his magic than usual—but perhaps he was still numb to it after it had blown him up. But what else could it be? What else...

All of a sudden he became intensely aware of his heart, beating steadily away in his chest. It was like there was a mild pressure on it, a...presence pushing down on him. He’d felt this way before, he was sure of it. But when?

Before his eyes the world appeared to shift, ever so slightly. The colours slid just a shade or two out of place, burning the backs of his retinas, and in places in the air he saw brief flashes of light...crystals... He knew what this was, this...tension pressing down on him—pulling at him. There was a God in the room, pushing at them, influencing them. Noctis was still freezing. He knew who it was. 

“Glacian,” he said, as loudly as his feeble voice would let him. “I know you’re there.” 

“Noct, what are you saying?” 

“Quiet!” he said, unsure who was talking, but quite sure they needed to stop. “I need to concentrate.” 

The room got even colder, he saw the others shivering now too. The crystals began to move in the air. 

“If you don’t show yourself I’ll find you,” he said. The tension on his chest increased. “You can’t kill me.” There was a sharp edge to the cold now. “You know you can’t.”

The crystals began swirling in the air around him, rotating and moving, sending an even colder wind through the room. The hollow in his chest grew greater, a gaping hole somewhere next to his soul. The crystals began to form a figure, crushing into one another, sharp angles ruining what would otherwise be a perfect likeness of Shiva, goddess of ice. 

Her voice seemed to shake the very room. “For what purpose has the Glacian been summoned?” 

“To tell you stop freezing me,” said Noctis, baring his teeth. “I’d have thought that’d be pretty obvious, don’t you?” 

“The Glacian is controlling that consuming void that was once your magic,” she hissed, anger shining through all of a sudden. “You ought to be thankful. It is through her grace alone you are not being burnt alive.”

“It’s not that bad,” said Noctis, forcing his feet under him, getting ready to spring—just in case. “Not yet. That’s not why you’re doing this. Bahamut’s running out of time, isn’t he?” 

“Time is something we have on our side, King of Nothing,” she spat. “Unlike you. It is the most polite suggestion of the Gods that he is running out of it.” 

“Well maybe if I weren’t freezing I’d be able to move faster.” For a moment blazing anger shone in Shiva’s eyes...then it faded. “So be it,” she whispered. 

Then she was gone. Noctis could almost feel the empty space in the air where she’d once been. All of a sudden the air was warm on his skin, and his lungs felt lighter, cleaner than they had before. There was still a chill in his bones though, and he shivered as he properly processed the cold within him for the first time. 

“What just happened?” murmured the doctor, looking around with distant, slightly glazed eyes. “We were...what _happened?_ ” 

“That was the power of the Gods, doctor,” said Gladio, looking similarly dazed. “Am I right, Noct?” 

“Yes,” murmured Noctis. “Yes, that’s right. I—sent her away. I think.” 

They seemed compelled to listen to him, he knew that now. 

“The Gods?” whispered Doctor Salix, her eyes wide. “Such a being was here, with us? How? Your power, I never imagined...” 

“Yeah,” Noctis said quietly. “It’s a lot for me too. I’m...tired...” 

That seemed to snap the doctor back to reality. “You should rest then—to challenge the Gods—I can scarcely imagine...Yes, lie back down, we should see about getting you a new shirt,” she said, then glanced down at his ash-covered trousers, “and perhaps some trousers too.”

She bustled out of the room, leaving him alone with Gladio and Ignis. This probably wasn’t going to be fun. 

“So Shiva was trying to freeze you?” asked Gladio. “This could be dangerous, Noct.”

“It _is_ dangerous,” muttered Ignis. 

“Shiva’s on Bahamut’s side, but she still stood down when I asked her to—that’s something at least.” 

“Why wouldn’t they just kill you, if they can?” Gladio wondered aloud. 

“They don’t want to kill me yet, remember?” sighed Noctis. “Proper time, proper place. Bahamut doesn’t have enough power yet—if he did I’d be dead—that’s why we have to move quickly. The fact the Gods are beginning to apply more pressure worries me. They must be worried.”

“If you’ll forgive me for changing the subject, Noct,” said Ignis, who was looking deeply tense, “what exactly...happened to you, after you met with Prompto? You didn’t seem conscious enough to answer earlier—you appear to have been injured, and the state of your clothes...”

Count on Ignis to notice his clothes over everything else. 

“I...had another incident with my magic, it...went out of control, again.” 

Gladio looked tireder than Noctis had ever seen him. “Noct, this _situation_ is out of control. You know that, don’t you?” 

Hard not to, given what he’d been through. He knew very well his magic was out of control. He just hoped he could finish this before it got worse. 

“I know,” he murmured. “I know. But the only thing I can do is get this over with and...I dunno...stop feeling anything from now on.”

“Is your magic caused by emotion?” asked Ignis, raising an eyebrow. “I wasn’t aware of that, Noct.”

“Well, every time it’s gotten out of control when I was upset, so...”

“Is there any way you can control it?” 

“No,” he said. He knew better than that by now. “I can’t control it—it’s just going to get worse until...I can’t...survive, anymore.” 

Gladio and Ignis exchanged a look he couldn’t quite read. 

Ignis was the one who looked back to him first. “Do you have any idea how much time you have left, Noct?” 

The truth was he wasn’t sure. He didn’t know. He just knew it was going to get worse if he didn’t do something soon. 

“I’m not sure. I don’t know how quickly this will progress, I just feel...wrong, inside.” He frowned. He knew that was way too vague, but he couldn’t think of a way to explain it any more clearly. “I’m sorry it’s hard to explain.” 

Ignis’s expression softened. “It’s alright, Noct. I know this is a lot.”

Noctis heard the door slide open again. He glanced up, expecting to see the doctor, but his heart gave a jolt when he saw the actual identity of the newcomer. 

“Um, hey,” said Prompto, nervously looking around the room. “Can I come in?” 

“Yes,” said Noctis, perhaps too quickly. “Yes, you can come in.”

Prompto shuffled awkwardly through the door, looking determined not to look anyone in the eye, but then he seemed to catch sight of something and looked up at Noctis directly, his eyes wide. He looked almost...afraid. 

“Oh Six,” he whispered, his eyes focused on Noctis’s shoulder. Oh no, Noctis could guess what he was thinking. “Noct, your arm—I really did hurt you didn’t I? Noct, I’m so sorry—”

“It’s okay,” said Noctis, leaning forward, trying to ignore the pain in his shoulder as he did. “This happened afterwards, it was my own fault—I was being stupid, I don’t blame you.” 

“But you...you’re...” Prompto’s eyes were looking him over, probably picking up on the ash, just like Ignis, damn it. 

“It’s okay. I’m fine now, I promise,” said Noctis, trying to sound as convincing as possible. “I’m gonna be okay.” 

“Noct’s right,” said Gladio, turning to him sympathetically. “He’ll be fine now.” 

Ignis didn’t say anything, just glaring at Noctis’s shoulder as though it had personally offended him. 

“You sure?” asked Prompto, stepping a little closer, his eyes not moving from Noctis’s shoulder. “You look...bad.”

“Yeah, ‘cause that’s such a big change from usual,” snorted Gladio. 

“Hey!” cried Noctis. 

Ignis gave a small smile at that. How dare he? “I look fine. Fine.” Prompto began to smile too. This was unacceptable—even if he was glad Prompto was smiling again. “I’m a King—everyone should aspire to look like me!”

Gladio shook his head. “Six, I hope not.” 

“With all due respect, Noct,” said Ignis, not looking remotely respectful, “I’m not sure you’re a healthy ideal to aspire to.”

Okay, he might have a point on that count, but still! “When I’m not...dying of magical overload, and stuff, I’m perfectly healthy,” he insisted. And that was mostly true as well. “I’m just going through a rough patch here.”

“Worse than a rough patch,” said Gladio. 

“You have been suffering from hypothermia for the last few hours, according to the doctor,” said Ignis, raising an eyebrow. 

He was also literally dying but it was probably best not to bring that up just now. “That’s a side-issue, and also literally a God’s fault so you can’t really blame me for that.” 

“I suppose not,” sighed Ignis. 

“Wait, what?” asked Prompto, looking between him, Ignis and Gladio. “Hypothermia?”

“Shiva’s been freezing me,” said Noctis, noticing for the first time he actually felt _warm_ again. “Trying to weaken me or something.” 

Prompto frowned, looking down at the floor. “They’re coming after you then? Properly, I mean.” 

Hard to answer that. “Yeah. Looks like it.” 

“Is there...anything we can do?” 

Noctis glanced towards the door, wondering when the doctor was coming back. He didn’t necessarily want her to hear this. 

“We’re still above Altissia, right?” Ignis nodded grimly, and Prompto turned slightly red. “I don’t want to leave, but, I suppose I don’t have much choice now, do I?”

“With your magic in that state?” asked Gladio. “‘Fraid not. You’d only be more of a danger to the people left down there.” 

That stung, but he tried not to let it show on his face. “Right. So we’ve got to keep going.” 

“Where to?” asked Prompto. 

“We still need more people to take on the Gods,” said Noctis, trying not to focus on the images of bodies floating before his eyes. “We need a proper force, something organised. We need to go back to Lucis.” 

“Are you sure, Noct?” asked Ignis. “We don’t know what’s happening over there—the daemons may have already taken over.”

“Then we’ll have to have faith that they haven’t, won’t we?” 

He couldn’t give up. Not now. Not when their best chance might still be ahead of him. 

“Alright,” sighed Ignis. “I’ll talk to the Commodore. But for now, please rest. You’re of no use to anyone if you collapse again.” 

Noctis gave a half-smile at that. “Alright, I will. For now.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a check-in to say I'll be updating once a week again every Thrusday from here as my schedule's beginning to heat up again. 
> 
> Thank you to everyone still reading, and I hope you enjoyed it!


	16. Dead or Dreaming?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Previously: Noctis is injured during the process of reconstructing himself and is forced to seek out the ship doctor for medical assistance. Ignis and Gladio are already waiting for him, and as he recovers interrogate him on the nature of his blow up on the lake. Noctis does not give a straight answer. He subsequently notices the presence of Shiva on board the ship, and commands her to leave, which she does, for now.

Gladio was on edge. He didn’t like the feeling, gnawing at his insides, urging him to leap up and do something. There was nothing to do on this damned ship. Nothing but wait. 

He was relieved they were heading for Lucis at long last—he still hadn’t been able to contact Iris due to the terrible phone reception off the continent, but once they got into Lucian airspace he could finally check how she was doing. He hoped she was alright. He _needed_ her to be alright. She was the only thing that seemed to be stable in his life right now. 

What happened down there on the lake—he and Ignis had spoken about it, of course, but they were no closer to answers than they were before. Noct’s reaction when they asked him...he clearly knew something; the panic on his face, all his questions, the way he’d been seeming to strain at his own mind not to speak—there was no way he didn’t know _something_. But what? What could be causing his magic to go haywire like this, to almost kill him? He’d never heard of anything like it, not even from his father when speaking about the powers of the Kings. Could it really just be that travelling through time had screwed something up? The fear on Noct’s face had suggested otherwise. 

At that moment, the door slid open and Ignis came in, apparently having finished his chat with Aranea. 

“Is she going to take us?” Prompto asked immediately. 

“She has agreed to land us at Cape Caem, yes,” said Ignis, tiredly. 

He sat down opposite them, looking a bit like he’d just run a marathon. 

“Not an easy discussion?” asked Gladio.

Ignis shook his head. “No, it was fine. I’m merely...tired after all that’s happened.”

“It has been kind of intense, hasn’t it?” said Prompto. 

“That’s one word for it,” muttered Gladio. Personally he thought it’d been downright chaotic for last few days. But no one needed to hear that.

“I fear the worst is yet to come.” Ignis’s tone was quiet and grim. “We still have no idea what is tampering with Noct’s magic.” 

Gladio rolled his eyes. “Pretty sure he knows though.” 

Ignis gave him a sharp look. 

“Did he talk about it before?” asked Prompto. 

“Not without us pushing at him.”

“It’s true that he was hesitant to speak,” said Ignis. “Though I believe that was merely because he had yet to fully recover.”

“Do you?” Gladio couldn’t help the words from spilling out. “Not to be all negative about this, but this is hardly the first time he’s lied to us about shit like this. Yeah, maybe he was too overwhelmed to talk about it back there, but do you honestly think he’s going to come around and explain once he’s better?”

Prompto avoided his eyes, staring at the floor, while Ignis scowled at him. 

“We need to give him time—” Ignis began.

“We don’t _have_ time,” said Gladio, knowing he was getting snappy, but he had to explain somehow. “He said it himself, he doesn’t know how long he’s got until it kills him. Sure, it might be months, but what if it’s not? What if he dies next week and we never find out if we might have been able to save him because he’s so damned determined not to let us know what’s wrong?”

The following silence was heavier than a ton of bricks. For a moment Gladio wondered if he hadn’t gone too far, but then Prompto spoke.

“But he can’t actually die, right?” he said, voice hesitant. “That’s what he said before—that Bahamut’s keeping him alive. We saw him fall onto the ship and everything.” 

Well, Prompto wasn’t wrong, but—

“There are things worse than death, Prompto,” Ignis said quietly. “I believe the fate Noctis was alluding to was something akin to that. Bahamut will not let him die but it is obvious his magic is tearing him apart. The end result is not too hard to guess.” 

Prompto had gone very pale. 

“But if we talk to him, maybe we can work out some way to save him,” said Gladio, deciding that was probably enough doom and gloom for now. “Which is why we need to find some way to get him to talk. Damned if I know how though.” 

“Why d’you think he’s so determined not to tell us?” asked Prompto. “I mean, I know before he was going on about dying, but this is different, right?” 

Personally, Gladio could do without the reminder of how determined Noct had been to throw his life away before Gralea, but he couldn’t deny that might be connected to why he was being so quiet now. 

“Perhaps not so different,” mused Ignis. “The reason he didn’t want to tell us before was that he believed it would only upset us, I think. That he did not wish to trouble us with it. It is not unthinkable he would be using the same logic in this case.”

“We do kind of already know about the stuff with his magic though,” Gladio pointed out. 

“Did he say what those voices from the portals were?” asked Prompto. “They were really strange.”

The voices...could that have something to do with it? That had been what they were asking about at the time, after all. He glanced over at Ignis and it was obvious he was having the same thought. 

“We asked him, but he clammed up pretty quickly,” said Gladio. “Dunno if that’s because he didn’t know or just didn’t want to talk about it.”

“It may be more than that,” said Ignis. “He appeared to me to be...in pain when we enquired about it. Did you notice that?” 

“He did look pretty distracted. I thought that might just be Shiva though.” 

“Point taken.” 

“No harm in asking him again though, right?” said Prompto, looking at them eagerly. “Maybe that will solve it.” 

“Hmm,” said Ignis, not looking too enthusiastic. 

Gladio had to admit he internally agreed. Noct was distant at the best of times. If they asked and he didn’t tell them then...

“We cannot push a confrontation with him until we’ve landed in Lucis,” said Ignis, seemingly coming to a decision. “We do not want to trouble him unnecessarily while he is still unwell.” 

“And when we _are_ on the ground?” asked Gladio. 

Ignis sighed. “We do our best to convince him.”

“And if we can’t?” 

Ignis gave him a long, hard stare. Gladio was familiar with it—something was ticking in Ignis’s mind, just under the surface. Waiting to emerge. 

“There is...something I’ve been meaning to tell you,” he said, adjusting his glasses slightly on his face. He was nervous. That was unusual. 

“What is it?” asked Prompto. 

Ignis took a deep breath, then seemed to settle himself. “While we were back in Tenebrae, I experienced...a vision. Perhaps even a divine intervention, of sorts.”

“A vision?” Gladio asked sharply. “Like a hallucination or...”

“Nothing of that kind,” said Ignis, waving his hand dismissively. “You are perhaps acquainted with the dog, Pryna?”

“Umbra’s sister?” asked Prompto. 

“The white dog, yes,” said Ignis, looking pleased Prompto had caught it. “She came to me. And when I went near her I saw...”

Ignis trailed off, his eyes unfocused, reluctant to go on. 

“This...vision?” Gladio prompted. 

Ignis cleared his throat, and adjusted his glasses on his face. His eyes looked slightly reddened. “I saw Noctis die.”

The room became deathly quiet. 

“A voice, I’m not sure whose exactly, informed me that this was how he would die were nothing to be done. But...it said we could save him. If, at the correct time, we followed Pryna when she appeared.”

Gladio could feel a tightness around his chest like an iron band. Was it possible? That after all that had happened there might still be some way to save Noct? But Pryna belonged to Shiva, didn’t she? And Shiva had unquestionably tried to freeze Noct...

“Are you sure it was real?” he asked, the words escaping him before he quite realised what he was saying. Ignis frowned at him. “I mean—are we sure it’s genuine? Pryna’s an Astral Messenger, right? They’ve not exactly been on our side lately.” 

Some of the eagerness disappeared from Prompto’s face.

“What you say is true,” said Ignis, quietly, “but I believe in this case the offer of help was genuine. I believe that it is possible... Shiva was attempting to help us, in freezing him. He has been rushing about all this time to try and gather people. What if it is possible the Gods instead need time to save him?” 

Gladio couldn’t deny the possibility, even if their earlier confrontation with her had unnerved him more than a little. _Could_ she be trying to help them? Even there was even the smallest chance that Noct’s life could be saved by following Pryna, wasn’t it his duty as Shield to try and pursue it? 

“Well I’m on-board,” said Prompto, leaning forward. “I mean, Pryna’s the sweetest dog ever, why would she try and trick us? If she says there’s a way to save Noct, I think we should go for it.” 

A small smile crept over Ignis’s face. “I fear the problem may not be with Pryna herself but the person we’re trying to save,” he said, becoming somewhat melancholy again. “Noct is...unlikely to look kindly on this, unless we break it to him gently.”

“Well, like you said, we shouldn’t push him until we get down to Lucis,” said Gladio. “I know he’s intent on dying and everything but I think that’s just because of the prophecy. If he knew the Gods had changed it to save him—why wouldn’t he take the opportunity?” 

“Yeah!” said Prompto. “All we have to do is be nice about it. We can definitely manage that.” 

“Indeed,” said Ignis, now smiling properly. “We’ll speak to him once we’re grounded. After that we’ll go from there. There’s no way of knowing when she’ll appear, after all.” 

“Well, we’ll be on the lookout!” said Prompto. 

Although he was somewhat swept up in the feeling that it might all turn out well after all, Gladio felt he still needed to be realistic. 

“Seriously though,” he said, “what if he’s not on-board? Are we okay just leaving him to try this?”

“Well,” said Prompto, avoiding his eyes and looking a bit pink, “it’s not like he can die right now anyway, so even if he does get in trouble...”

“I agree with Prompto,” said Ignis, quietly. “If he does not agree, then we may simply have to take matters into our own hands.” He cleared his throat. “Of course, that remains a last resort. Noct may not be particularly communicative, but he’s not foolish. With all luck we’ll be able to convince him to speak about whatever it is that’s troubling him and he’ll take a reasonable view of the plan.”

Somehow, Gladio suspected it wouldn’t be that easy. He knew Noct a little too well for that by now. 

“It won’t be too long before we get there anyway,” he said aloud, trying not to think about it. 

“Only a few more hours,” said Prompto. 

A few more hours... At least he would be able to see Iris again. At this point it was all he could hope for. 

* * *

“I’m not dead.” 

There was no response. Just an endless, unchanging blue sky, and the flowers swaying in and out of his vision just above him. He pushed himself upright. Somehow he always managed to forget how much less painful that was here. 

The field in the space between the worlds was as empty as ever. Emptier, even, as there was no sign of Gentiana. He rose to his feet. Perhaps she expected him to look for her? But why? It had never happened like this before...

He sighed, closed his eyes and shook himself, trying to get a feel for his now painless limbs. But when he opened his eyes again, they alit on something he hadn’t noticed before. 

To his left, the only thing that broke the endless field of flowers, was a dilapidated stone arch, standing solitary against the sky. It was harder to see than anything else in that place, as though just beyond it lay an impenetrable fog, even though the sun still shone down on the field as brightly as ever. And somehow, now he stared at it, the soft breeze was no longer so silent as it had been before. If he just closed his eyes and listened he thought he heard the faintest whisper...

“King of Light.”

Noctis’s eyes snapped open and he whirled around, only to find Gentiana standing just behind him. 

“You scared me!” 

“The Messenger gives her greatest apologies,” she said, with a deep bow. “This was not her intention.”

His heart began to slow again. 

“It’s fine,” he said. “I should have been paying more attention.” 

“Yes,” said Gentiana, though there was no malice to her words. 

Noctis nodded. He’d been thinking about something before—gotten distracted. “I, um, wanted to ask you—I’m not dead, am I?” 

Gentiana gave one of those mysterious half-smiles. “No, the King is not dead,”

“Then how am I here? I thought—”

“This is a place between worlds, home of Messengers and other beings of semi-divinity. It is not necessary to die to come here.” 

“But I can’t come here when I’m awake...”

“It is not a place of the kind a mortal would recognise,” said Gentiana. “It exists on no map, there is no means by which one can travel to it.”

“Then it’s...not a part of Eos?” 

It was a strange thought because he was quite sure Eos was there. That its presence was why he no longer felt so tired and dead inside. A light, somewhere beyond his vision...

Had Gentiana been human, Noctis thought she might have laughed. But her expression quickly resumed its usual severity.

“Eos is everywhere. But the King is right in that She is not present in the same way that She is in the realm of mortals. The land may be considered Eos’s body, Her physical form given shape. The Beyond is what humans might call Her soul, the place where all souls must eventually return, and the place from which they are born. This, then, this world between worlds must be something like Her dreams.”

“We’re in Eos’s dream?” Noctis became concerned the whole place might collapse at any moment—if this was anything like _his_ dreams...

Gentiana smiled. “Or something akin to such a thing. An illusion, or construction of the mind, a place that cannot be plotted or entered, but nonetheless exists.”

“I can’t do that with _my_ mind,” said Noctis, feeling somehow very stupid. 

“The King, while remarkable, is not the progenitor of all life upon the star,” said Gentiana evenly. 

Fair point. It was probably foolish to imagine the dreams of a God would be anything like his. 

“But the world of death and that of dreams are not so dissimilar,” she said, and her gaze became fixed on the archway he’d noticed earlier. 

The fog seemed to have gotten thicker than it was before. 

“What is that?” 

Gentiana just stared in silence for a moment. The wind had stopped, and the sun’s heat had all of a sudden become stifling. 

“This is a place between worlds,” she said, her voice as low and still as the air, “but it is still possible to travel between them. The King has returned to his world from this one many times now, but that is subject to the whims of the Gods. The easiest path is the one that lies before him.” 

The wind was blowing again, and the whispers he’d heard before were now almost loud enough to hear. And all at once he knew what lay beyond the gate. Beyond all things. 

“You mean if I go through there, then I’ll die.” 

Gentiana didn’t turn to look at him, still staring at the gate, her eyes open and unblinking. “Most souls who pass through are unaware they even have a choice. But for some it is less clear. They may stay and attempt to remain in their world. Or...”

“They walk through.” 

He’d seen this place before, before even this cycle, he realised. He’d seen it that first, terrible time. Seen Luna. And in the back, always just behind her...this very gate. So she’d walked through. He was surprised how little anger he felt about it. Perhaps that was just because he now knew what it was to long to walk through too. 

“What would happen if I tried to go through it?” he asked. “Isn’t Bahamut trying to keep me out?” 

“The Draconian can prevent mortals from sliding through the gate of death without cause, but in this place, his power is all but nonexistent. With almost all other mortals, he would likely fear to intervene. In the cases of the King and the Accursed, however, the Messenger believes attempting to enter the gate would cause both them and the world great harm.”

“Right.” 

Noctis shook himself. He might want death, but it was nowhere near time yet. He still had some things he needed to sort out on Eos first.

“You called me here, then,” he said, addressing Gentiana. “Is something important happening?”

“Indeed,” she said, her voice going back to its usual monotone. “The Gods are moving swiftly now. The Glacian did not come to this place merely in pursuance of the King. In fact, a far grander goal was in mind.”

That didn’t sound good. “How do you mean?”

Gentiana looked at him steadily. “When the King caught the attention of the Hydraean, the Glacian sensed her presence, and now seeks to draw her from the King. By now it is likely she has already fallen to her influence.”

“But...”

“This is not her only task, however.” Noctis stared at her waiting for her to continue. She seemed reluctant to speak. That was unusual. “It has come to the Messenger’s attention that the Gods have become aware of the King’s friends as a...tool of distraction.”

Tool of distraction? What did that mean?

“If they think they can try and kill them without me stopping—”

“That is not the intent.” Gentiana’s brow was furrowed, her expression severe. “Just as the Draconian seeks to drive the Gods from the King’s side, so too will he try to target his companions. The Messenger knows not what form this will take, only that they will be approached.” 

“Will they try to hurt them, or...” 

Gentiana’s lips grew slightly pursed, and she looked more human than she usually did. “The Glacian has a better understanding of humanity than most of the Six,” she murmured, her eyes turned away. “The Messenger finds it likely she will attempt to use this knowledge against the King. If there is any weakness, any mistrust between him and his companions, she will find and exploit it.” Gentiana’s eyes abruptly met his. “The King must take great care. Her powers of illusion match those of the Accursed himself. His friends may be taken without even realising what is happening to them.”

“But how do I stop them—” Noctis began, but the clouds were already rolling in overhead, starting to take him away. 

“Watch,” said Gentiana, her voice almost lost on the wind. “Watch for the white dog. She has been warped, a herald of deception...”

But he didn’t hear anything more, as Gentiana’s voice became frail and distant, and the wind grew louder, sweeping him away, rattling him back into the world of the living.

* * *

A low hum buzzed at the edge of his hearing as he gradually came back to himself. They hadn’t landed yet then. That was probably good. Probably. 

He flicked his eyes open. A dark metal ceiling manifested above him. No lights on? Perhaps it was still night-time. 

He felt around on the bedside table for his phone, as his eyes adjusted to the darkness. His fingers closed around the cold metal slab. He clicked the screen on. The blazing light from the display told him it was five o’clock in the morning. Well that wasn’t too bad, then. Soon everyone else would be awake, and then he’d be distracted from what he’d heard in his dream. But until then...until then... 

He sighed. Why did always turn out like this? Him, alone, with no way of distracting himself from the troubling thoughts circling his head. 

So the Gods, specifically Shiva, were going to target his friends now? And what Gentiana had said about the white dog—she couldn’t mean Pryna, could she? But then, if Shiva really had gotten her claws into her, perhaps she had no choice in the matter. A ‘herald of deception’. In other words, if she showed up all might not be as it seemed. 

Illusion magic really was the worst kind, in his opinion. 

He pushed himself upright, ignoring the deep ache in his shoulder as he did. He couldn’t just lie here pondering until morning. He’d only get himself worked up again. Given the time of night, it was unlikely anyone else would be up yet. Unlikely...but not impossible. Gladio, for one, was a notoriously early riser. And he didn’t want to take any chances about running into him—or anyone else, for that matter. 

What a strange feeling this was, to despise being alone, and yet hate the thought of company. 

The others knew him too well, that was the problem. They always had awkward questions they wanted answering, or were worried if he acted out of the ordinary (whatever that even meant anymore). They just _cared_ too much. All of this would be much easier, he thought, if people cared about him a good deal less. Then he wouldn’t have to worry so much about hiding everything from them, at least. 

He pushed himself off the bed. The ship was more of a normal temperature now, the metal floor no longer freezing his feet. Shakily, he managed to force himself upright. The hospital garments hung loosely off him, making him feel like a child playing dress-up in an adult’s clothes. It was very quiet. Just like when he’d woken up before. 

Perhaps this was a bad idea... Would it really be so bad to try and get some more sleep in? He didn’t feel tired though, that was the problem. 

His eyes were now more or less adjusted to the darkness, and he could see that over the back of a nearby chair some clothes had been laid out—presumably for him to change into once he woke up. Well, there was no harm in getting ready a little early. 

Once he’d shrugged on the clothes they’d given him (all black, which he appreciated), he felt more awake than ever. But what to do? Perhaps just taking a walk would take his mind off things.

Just for a little bit. 


	17. Return to Lucis

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Previously: Prompto, Gladio and Ignis reconvene after Noctis's outburst to discuss his odd behaviour. Ignis reveals to the others the vision he was granted by Pryna and pitches his idea to try and save Noctis from his fate, possibly without his knowledge. Meanwhile Noctis meets Gentiana in his dreams, and she explains more about the world between the worlds and the state of affairs on the surface, as well as giving him a warning: that Pryna is not what she seems.

Noctis stood, arms folded, near where the hangar door would open to let them off. The others had found him eventually, of course, but he’d noticed they seemed a little less inclined to scold him that usual. Which was nice, of course, but he couldn’t help but feel something was off somehow. 

Aranea strode in through the side door, making Prompto snap his head up to stare at her.

“We’re almost there, boys,” she said, resting her arms across the length of the door. “If you’ve got anything left to pack, pack it. I don’t plan to stick around long.” 

“Got it,” said Noctis. 

She nodded, then withdrew. 

“Do any of you have any possessions you’ve yet to pack?” asked Ignis. 

Noctis wasn’t sure he had any possessions left at all. The only things he’d seen in his hospital room were his sword and a change of clothes. Everything else had been on the boat, and Six only knew where that was now. It wasn’t like he was particularly upset about it—goodness knows living hundreds of years on the run had taught him not to assign too much value to the stuff he had, and it wasn’t like he’d be needing most of it for much longer, but some part of him still felt a sense of loss. 

He hadn’t been able to protect his stuff or his people. What kind of a king was he? He shoved the thought from his mind. Useless, that’s what that line of thinking was. He was in the present, and that was where he was going to stay. 

“I think all my stuff is good to go,” said Prompto, bringing Noctis back to reality. 

“Yeah, same,” he said. 

Ignis nodded, glancing at the window, then back to the door. “We appear to be coming into Cape Caem. I don’t particularly want a repeat of last time we came.” 

Noctis frowned. It hadn’t been that bad last time they were in Caem, had it? Sure he was suffering from the Starscourge, but none of _them_ had known that. 

Gladio clearly noticed his expression. “We brought you back to Caem after you collapsed in Steyliff,” he said. 

Oh. That made more sense then. 

“I was more referring to the reaction we received upon arrival,” sighed Ignis. “The Marshal was very unhappy we had arrived in an enemy ship.” 

“Niflheim’s not really the enemy anymore though, are they?” asked Noctis with a shrug. “I mean, not to be callous, but I’m pretty sure everyone there who might have posed a threat to us is either dead, missing or in no position to be riding airships over to Lucis to invade, am I right?” 

Ignis sighed and pinched his brow. “I suppose. But we’ve been at war with Niflheim for almost four hundred years—such enmity does not die easily.”

Alright, maybe Ignis had a point with that. It wasn’t like he’d be forgiving either Ardyn or the Astrals any time soon. 

Then the ship gave a great juddering, heaving sound, and Noctis knew they were coming in to land. 

“Well we haven’t been shot out of the sky yet,” he said, as he approached the door.

“Humph,” said Ignis. 

The hangar door was already open when they got there, and Noctis could hear voices from somewhere below.

“What do you think you’re doing coming back here in that great dirty ship without Prince Noctis?” a harsh, familiar voice was asking from below. 

“Calm down old man, he’s here,” said Aranea’s voice. 

“I don’t see ‘im,” said the other. 

Noctis stumbled down the landing strip, and finally caught sight of the other converser. Cid. Just as he’d suspected.

“Hey!” he cried upon seeing Noctis.

“See, what was I telling you?” asked Aranea, exasperated. 

“I’m okay, Cid,” said Noctis, smiling as he approached him. “I promise.”

Cid heaved a great sigh and rested his hands on his hips. “And a great lot of good that does me. Do you know what folks are sayin’ about you ‘round here?”

Noctis raised an eyebrow. That didn’t sound good. “No, what?” 

“Them that’s coming from across the sea, refugees and such—saying you have the power of a God. And not in a good way neither. Said you summoned Leviathan to curse ‘em or something.”

Noctis’s chest felt more constricted than ever. On the one hand, there were some people who’d gotten out alive. That was good for him, at least. On the other, they understood the gravity of what had happened. And it was his fault, he had summoned Leviathan. 

Well, he’d just have to deal with that now, wouldn’t he?

“Yeah,” he said, sounding almost as tired as he felt. “Things went pretty bad over in Altissia.”

“And I notice the sky’s still getting darker too,” said Cid, folding his arms and glaring at Noctis. “You planning to sort that out, Prince Noctis?”

Okay, he could stand for well-deserved criticism, but this did not fall into that category. 

“I am sorting it,” he said, mimicking Cid’s posture. “The thing is, in order to sort it, I’m going to need a lot more that just my sword, being as the actual, literal Gods are trying to kill me now.” 

Had Cid been more credulous, Noctis suspected he’d have had a more extreme reaction, but as it was his eyes just widened a bit, then narrowed, as though he doubted Noctis’s veracity. The nerve. 

“Is that so? And how’d you manage to piss off all the Six at once, hmm? Are we ‘bout to end up in another Astral War?” 

“Let’s hope not,” said Noctis, pinching the bridge of his nose. He wouldn’t survive a conflict that long, he knew that with certainty. “If we strike hard and fast we could stop this before it comes to that.”

“So what is it you’re planning to do, exactly? Rally an army?”

“Yes. That’s exactly what I’m planning to do,” said Noctis, trying to look as intimidating as he possibly could. All of a sudden, Cid gave a quiet chuckle, and unfolded his arms again, no longer looking quite so severe. “Ah, you remind me of your old man. Don’t lose that spirit, Prince Noctis.”

“I think you’ll find I’m King now,” said Noctis, raising an eyebrow. “Line of succession and all that.”

Cid gave a sideways smile. “So you are. Beg my pardon.” 

Noctis wasn’t sure why he felt so triumphant getting Cid to admit that, but he did.

“Is everything going well down here?” asked Ignis, stumbling down the ramp himself. 

“Fine,” said Noctis. 

“Ah, you boys are here too then,” said Cid, watching as the others descended towards the floor. 

“Of course we are,” said Gladio, stiffly. “We’re Noct’s bodyguards.”

Cid gave another half-smile. “Of course, of course. No reason you wouldn’t be.” 

“I’m getting ready to go!” Aranea called down suddenly from the top of the airship. “I hope you haven’t left anything behind!”

“We’re fine, Commodore!” Ignis called back. 

“Then I’ll see you boys back in Tenebrae. Don’t take too long here, you hear me? The Gods won’t wait forever!” 

“We know,” called Noctis. “Safe travels, Aranea.” 

She gave a salute, then disappeared back into the ship, and with a great whirring, grinding sound, it lifted off into the air again. 

“What do you boys plan to do now?” asked Cid, watching as the ship disappeared off into the distance. 

“I don’t know,” said Noctis, tearing his eyes away from the sky. “I was hoping you might be able to help. We need people—is there anywhere they’re gathering? How bad has it gotten?” 

Cid’s face became grim. “Well if you want people, they’re lining up in their hundreds along the beaches, coming from everywhere. Accordians, Tenebreans—even some Nifs, come to think of it. I dunno what’s happening over on the continent but whatever it is, people are running from it.” 

Suddenly the weight Noctis had been trying not to think about on the way there came crashing back down onto his shoulders. 

“It’s...bad,” he said, trying to think of how even to describe the chaos going on in a way Cid would understand. “The daemons are getting stronger, and so are the Gods.” 

“You mentioned ‘em before. What’s going on?” 

“They’re gathering their power, they want to fight—to sacrifice everyone...It’s complicated, but I know they won’t stand down.” 

Cid sighed and shook his head. He’d never been a young man, but he looked older than Noctis had ever seen him before. “What’s the world coming to that we can even trust our own Gods to save us?” 

Noctis bit back his reply—that the Gods had never saved them, never would, and instead decided to focus on the positive. The Gods might not save them. But he damn well would. 

“It’s bad,” he admitted, “but I won’t let it defeat me. I can’t give up now.”

“You might stand to lose less, if you did,” said Cid, looking him up and down. 

Noctis gave a smile he didn’t really mean. “There’s not much left to lose. Trust me.” 

Cid’s eyes narrowed a bit, but he nodded. 

“That aside, Cid,” said Ignis, breaking into the conversation, “other than refugees, is there anyone left capable of fighting?” 

“Sure is,” said Cid, folding his arms, “Cor’s been wreaking havoc across the country, going after Nif bases, gathering people to help him fight, mobilising the hunters—if you want folks capable of taking the fight to them, he’s the one you want to look for.” 

“Where is he?” asked Gladio. 

“Last I heard, he was gathering folks to Fort Vaullerey. That’s your best bet for finding him.” 

Fort Vaullerey. Great, that was going to be fun. Couldn’t he just have a normal meeting with someone for once? Foolish question—of course he couldn’t. 

“Then that’s where we’ll go.” 

Cid raised an eyebrow. “An’ how are you planning to get there? Walk?” 

He made a good point. Noctis was tired as it was with his shoulder, and they had no other means of transport across the land right now. 

Suddenly Cid gave a laugh. Noctis didn’t see the funny side at all. 

“What’s so funny?” he asked defensively. 

“Why’re y’all looking so grim?” he asked. “You’ve still got your car, haven’t you?” 

“B-but...we left that back at Steyliff,” stuttered Prompto. 

“An’ my girl tugged it back here for you, didn’t she?” said Cid, shaking his head. “You ought to be thanking me, being as I asked her to. Thought you’d probably need it if you were coming back.” 

“Thank you, Cid,” said Ignis, smiling. 

“Is she still here?” asked Prompto, a little too eagerly. 

Cid snorted. “‘Course not, that was weeks ago. She still needs the run the garage y’know. Though people are coming there more often for supplies than getting their cars done now.”

Yes, the situation must be beginning to get dire. 

“Thank you for all of your help, Cid,” said Ignis, continuing in the diplomatic vein. “We’d best get moving as soon as possible.”

“Humph,” said Cid. “Guess I can appreciate that. You do one thing for me on the road though, you hear? If you see any of those refugees, you tell ‘em to head on over to Hammerhead. Most of ‘em have only got the clothes on their backs, and I know they don’t all come by here so I can warn ‘em. You do that for _Lucis_ , Noctis. Not just me.” 

“Alright,” said Noctis. “I think I can do that.” 

“Damn right you can.” 

“We’ll be getting on now, Cid,” said Gladio, gently pushing Noctis forward, as if to say ‘get moving’. 

“Yeah, well, be off with you then, I suppose,” said Cid, tilting his hat in their direction as they back making their way down the winding path to the bottom of the cliff. “And don’t be too long coming back! This world is in a hurry!” 

Oh, didn’t he know it? 

“We won’t!” he called back, though he had no idea if Cid heard him. 

* * *

It was...strange to see the Regalia again. He didn’t know why. It shouldn’t be strange. He’d had it in almost every other cycle, sometimes right the way to the end. It wasn’t strange he should still have it at all. Perhaps having his memory wiped had affected him more than he’d thought. Or perhaps it was just that he felt like he ought to have died by now, and getting the Regalia back was too much like living. 

He was going to go over and get in, but before he could get very far, Ignis caught him by his sensitive shoulder and pulled him back, making him wince.

“Sorry,” said Ignis, quickly removing his hand. “I forgot myself. Are you alright, Noct?” 

“Fine,” said Noctis, shaking himself. “Something you wanted?” 

“In a manner of speaking.”

Noctis noticed that behind Ignis, Prompto and Gladio were exchanging glances. Looked like they’d discussed this beforehand. 

“Before we go any further, Noct, I feel I must ask...the voices on the lake. You’re sure you know nothing about them?” 

Yes, the voices. Portals, really. To other worlds. He thought he’d managed to play it off before...but then he had been in a state of delirium. And if they still had questions then it obviously hadn’t worked as well as he’d hoped it would. What to say? Was now really the time? Could he deny what had truly happened any longer? This was the best chance he’d get to explain, and how horrendously ironic that the very reason they would find out was just another instance of him losing control and killing innocents. 

He should tell them. Could tell them, if he wanted to. Thinking about that time no longer threatened to tear his mind in two, even if he did still hate thinking about it. It would be easy. Logical, even. 

But even though he was thinking it, even though he almost believed it, his mouth was still closed, and the words, even as they danced in the forefront of his mind, waiting to be spoken...remained silent. He was mute. Ah. It had been foolish to believe it might be as easy as that. 

“Noct?”

Ignis was frowning. Prompto and Gladio were frowning. Worry worry worry. Take all the worries away. 

“Sorry,” he said. For a moment he didn’t know why he said it. _Sorry for not telling you? Again? Sorry for being stuck like this, even though I know I could speak? If I wanted to... Which I don’t. Sorry..._ “I got lost in thought there for a moment. I don’t know anything about those voices.” So much easier to lie than try and tell them... “I guess that’s just another part of my magic.”

“I’ve never heard of any King’s magic tearing the world apart,” said Gladio. 

And that was the exact reason he hated being with them so much. They knew things. Saw through his lies—designed to help them, mind you, to save them the pain... Such bitterness. It hadn’t been like that before. But as the pain dwelling in his soul grew greater, so did the poisonous anger boiling inside. He didn’t want it to get the upper hand, but... Six. How did it come to this? 

“Most Kings didn’t have their magic all screwed up by time travel either,” Noctis said shortly, and it was true enough. “And it wasn’t tearing them to pieces in an attempt to kill them, so there’s that too.” 

The others were staring at him. Too aggressive? Probably. 

“Can we just go?” he asked. 

Ignis walked over to the car. “I’ll drive,” he said quietly. And that seemed to be that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for being a day late! We should be back to regular Thursdays after this!
> 
> I'm afraid Noct is still not back to his usual self yet in this chapter! His incident with Leviathan has knocked him seriously out of sorts, and it seems the mood is lasting. Of course, what with the tense atmosphere amongst him and the bros anyway, there's a distinct possiblity he's going to regret his split-second decision at the end of this chapter...


	18. An Awkward Drive

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Previously: Noctis and his friends arrive in Lucis to meet Cid, who tells them that many refugees are pouring into the country following the disasters happening elsewhere. Noctis's friends attempt to interrogate him on what happened out on the lake, but Noctis refuses to give them a straight answer, paralysed by his own guilt.

Noctis hadn’t thought things could get much more awkward than they were on the airship, but he quickly found he was mistaken. The silence in the car as they drove was excruciating, and worse, he knew it was his fault. He shouldn’t have shut them down so hard—in fact he ought to have just told the truth for once in his damned life. But no. He just couldn’t spit it out. What was wrong with him? 

The trees and fields passed by in a blur as they drove. It was still light out. For now. 

“So,” said Prompto, with the air of one desperately uncomfortable in the silence, “what are our plans from here? Just head straight to Cor?” 

“That’s the plan,” Noctis said in a dull monotone. He wanted to apologise for earlier, for making them all feel so awkward, but he couldn’t quite formulate the words in his head. 

Everyone seemed tense, even Gladio. Had there been something more to their question back there? Was there something he’d missed? 

“You ready for this, Noct?” asked Gladio. 

“Ready as I’ll ever be. Why?” 

“Nothing, you just looked unhappy.” 

Well that was new. Gladio actually caring about how he felt. What a novelty. 

“Just hoping it’ll be over soon,” he said. It came out sounding more depressing than he’d meant it to, which might have been why Ignis then posed the question he did. 

“What are you planning to do after the war?” he asked.

It felt as though someone had lit a small bonfire in his back of his skull. A fury the likes of which he’d only experienced a few times blazed up within him. Hadn’t he already told them a million times? What would he have to do to make it clear? Take his sword and slam it though his chest out of spite? Why couldn’t they just accept he had to die? Was it so much to long for some _rest_ after all of this—this hellish unending torture of life, upon life, upon life? 

He took a deep, shuddering breath, biting back the poisonous remarks already at the tip of his tongue. They didn’t know yet. Couldn’t, because he hadn’t told them. But he needed to end this ceaseless pestering. 

“There _is_ no after,” he said, voice cracking slightly as he said it, barely able to keep from shouting. 

He hoped they interpreted it as misery, but from the way Gladio was staring at him from the corner of his eye, he guessed he’d had no such luck. 

“I see.” Ignis’s voice was only just audible above the hum of the engine. 

Noctis was dimly aware his fists were clenched so tightly his nails were digging into his hands, sharp pain shooting through his palms. He slowly forced them back into a relaxed position, though his muscles were still so tense he could barely tell the difference. 

Grinding his teeth together, he tried to ignore the anger. Tried to ignore the shame. It always felt like he was doing something wrong when he said it. But it was all for their benefit in the end. Wasn’t it? 

Then, the worst thing that could have happened in such a situation _did_ happen. The car gave a few stuttering, unpleasant whirring sounds, and all at once they ground to a halt. 

Noctis half-thought Ignis was going to tell him to get out and then drive off again as retribution for his earlier comment, but he did not. 

“What’s happening, Iggy?” asked Gladio, clearly struggling to keep his temper under control too. 

Ignis was staring intently at the dashboard. “I don’t believe it,” he murmured.

That didn’t sound good. 

“Don’t believe what?” asked Prompto, inching forward to try and see for himself. 

“We’re out of fuel.” 

“But we’ve only gone a few miles,” said Noctis, the words escaping him before he could stop them. 

“My thoughts exactly,” said Ignis.

“Lemme see,” said Gladio, undoing his seatbelt and leaning over to examine the dashboard for himself. 

Noctis could see perfectly well from where he sat that Ignis was telling the truth. 

“Maybe Cindy forgot to fill her up when she toed her to Caem?” he suggested. “I don’t remember how much fuel we had at Steyliff.”

“That may be the case,” said Ignis, with a very tired-sounding sigh as he leant back in his seat. 

“What are we going to do now?” asked Prompto. “Are there any gas stations nearby?”

“Nearby?” said Noctis. “No. But there’s a haven not far from here if I remember right.”

Gladio looked up at the sky for a moment, then back down at the car. “We may have to stay there for the night depending on how long it takes to walk there.” 

“Add in the time pushing the car and yeah, I don’t think we’ll make it to Vaullerey before nightfall,” said Noctis, glancing up at the sky himself. 

Gladio sighed and opened one of the car doors. “Looks like it’s time to push then. You gonna steer us, Ignis?”

“If that’s acceptable?” asked Ignis. 

“It is.”

Had Noctis been in a slightly better, and less self-destructive mood, he’d have pointed out that his shoulder was still injured, making shoving the car a less than pleasing prospect. But he wasn’t in the mood to cause any more disturbance, so he held his tongue. Clambering out of the car, he was only dimly aware of Gladio saying the whole thing felt vaguely familiar and Prompto nervously laughing it off. 

For himself, all he remembered were the many, many times he’d pushed this miserable car all the way to Hammerhead, each time thinking that might be the one that released him, and each time being wrong. He had to break free. He couldn’t take much more of this. Not for much longer. 

He tried to push more with his uninjured shoulder, but his left one still ached terribly, almost as if to spite him for his earlier behaviour. To tell him he needed to do better. 

It was a long walk, and most of it was spent in a silence awkwarder and deeper than any he’d heard before. He found himself half-wishing he was the careless person he’d become before. Back then the silence didn’t bother him nearly so much. But then neither did the lives of his friends in general, and he hardly wanted to go back to that either. So much for turning over a new leaf. 

He found his thoughts returning to his mind-set back then—that they’d all be saved a lot of trouble if he just left—if they were no longer involved. Of course, that hadn’t really worked in the previous cycles. They had gotten themselves all worked up and come looking for him anyway, as though _he_ was the one who needed protecting. This time though...if they didn’t hate him now, they surely would when he finally told them the truth. And they knew he’d chosen to hide it for so long. Really, why weren’t they already gone? They hated him. Must hate him. 

Prompto, for one, had been conspicuously avoiding him ever since they left the airship, and even now seemed to want to avoid looking him in the eye. Somehow that hurt worse than the rejection from the other two. Knowing he’d hurt him. Resented him, for what he’d done. 

Eventually they reached the bend in the road that meant Telghey Haven was nearby. The sun was low in the sky. They had one or two hours of daylight left at best. 

“It’s just up ahead,” he said, the first words he’d spoken since he got out of the car. 

“We leaving the car here, then?” grunted Gladio, still panting slightly. 

“Yeah, it’s not too far.” 

Prompto clambered out of the drivers seat and Ignis locked the car safely shut. Somehow Noctis doubted there’d be many people around to try and steal it, but he didn’t protest. 

The path to the haven was leafy and green, but there was a cold chill on the air. Noctis found himself wishing that was just a sign of the coming autumn, rather than the darker symbol he suspected it was. 

The haven finally came into view, the blue light just emerging through the tops of the trees. 

“Here we are,” he said. He’d wanted it to sound casual and normal, but his voice still sounded slightly strained from the exhaustion of walking all the way there. 

“Still got the camping stuff in the Armiger?” asked Gladio, clambering up to the Haven. 

“Yeah,” said Noctis. “Just be careful getting it out. Don’t want another explosion.” 

Gladio gave him a sharp look, but was careful getting the camping gear out all the same. 

Noctis helped him set up—at this point he had far more practice at it than any of them—they’d largely avoided camping this time, which might have something to do with why Ignis and Prompto were just standing around looking awkward. Or maybe that was just him. 

By the time they were done, the forest was dyed a dull red in the rays of the setting sun. They probably had about one hour before the daemons began to appear. 

The others were sitting quietly by the campfire, but there was still a certain tension in the air. And Prompto still wasn’t looking at him. Noctis wanted nothing more than to leave and never return, damn the consequences. Why didn’t they understand? 

“We having anything for dinner?” asked Gladio, looking at Ignis. 

Ignis gave a short sigh that didn’t bode well at all. “Unless you want burnt toast, no. We’ve practically no supplies after leaving everything in Altissia.”

This could be the opportunity he’d been looking for. If he could just get away for a little while...

“I’ll go and find us something,” he said, standing up. 

“You?” asked Gladio, more aggressively than strictly necessary, in Noctis’s opinion. 

“Why not? I can fight, can’t I?”

“Can you do it without blowing up the whole forest?”

All at once the rage was boiling within him once more. But he couldn’t wreck things now. “Sure, if I just use my weapons and stay away from magic.”

“Because that’s worked out so well before.” 

The tension was getting thicker with each passing second. 

“These are just local animals,” he said, trying to hit the reconciliatory note. “They’re way less dangerous than daemons or Gods. It’ll be fine.” 

“Why do you keep lying to us?” snapped Gladio, now on his feet too. 

“Gladio,” said Ignis, in a warning voice. 

Prompto looked like he wanted to run for it, and Noctis couldn’t really blame him. 

“Lying to you?” he asked, forcibly repressing the urge to shout. “What am I ‘lying’ about?” 

“Everything?” said Gladio through clenched teeth. “You know what happened out on the lake when your powers went out of control and you’re refusing to tell us. Those voices in the portals? You know what they were. You’re just lying about it because...I don’t know, you think we’re too damned stupid to catch you? You think we don’t know your magic’s out of control? Why keep hiding things after everything we’ve done?”

Noctis could barely hear Gladio over the cacophony of screeching rage going on in his own head, and scorching fire was already burning under his skin, ready to leap out and burn them all alive. 

“You have _no idea_ what you’re asking me,” hissed Noctis, practically spitting with rage. 

Gladio was about to open his mouth again, but Noctis could feel himself on the edge of the precipice, losing his balance, so before he could get any words out he leapt off the haven and stormed into the forest, running as fast as his legs would take him, ignoring the voices behind him. He was faster than them. And he needed to be as far away as possible if something did crack. 

Somehow running quenched the anger though. With each footfall, each frantic heartbeat, the deadly rage got smaller and smaller, until the tight knot in his chest that had been waiting to explode was just the tiniest pinprick. And then, as he finally came upon the entrance to Malmalam Thicket, it had dissipated entirely, leaving him to drop to his knees in exhaustion. 

Six, was it any wonder they didn’t like being around him? He was practically insane. 

* * *

Gladio had stormed off into the tent after a brief and unsuccessful attempt to chase Noct into the forest. Of course he was much faster than them by now—there was no catching him if he was determined to leave. And moreover, Ignis hated to think what he might have done if Gladio _had_ caught him. With the dreadful mood he’d been in...

“Think he’s coming back?” asked Prompto, breaking the silence that had fallen over them. 

“I’m sure he will.” Though in truth, he doubted it. There was no telling how long Noct might go off on this venture of his. He might have gotten sick of them altogether. 

“Why did he get so angry?” 

Ignis couldn’t repress his sigh. If only he knew the answer. Noct was practically a stranger to him now, very different to the boy he’d grown up with in Insomnia. The old Noct (if that was the right word for him) had been obtuse—but it was never _too_ hard to guess what he was thinking. This one, on the other hand... 

Perhaps they’d pushed it too far too quickly. It had been only days since the fiasco at Altissia, and it was perfectly obvious from the way Noct had reacted to the news the city was lost that he blamed himself. Worse still, it was mostly his fault. Without Leviathan there, the water and ice and magic, Ignis didn’t doubt many more could have been saved. But they weren’t. Was it fair to blame Noct for that? Had he really changed so much?

“I’m not sure, Prompto,” he said aloud, finally coaxing himself to speech. “Possibly we tried to go too quickly for him.”

“It’s as though he hates the sight of us,” said Prompto quietly. 

The crackling of the fire seemed unusually loud in the quiet of the clearing. 

“I believe he is merely tired of us pressing him on the matter,” said Ignis. But did that explain the rage, the hatred in his eyes as he argued with Gladio? “He may simply need more time to forget before we can ask anything further.”

“Right.”

Prompto didn’t sound particularly convinced. Not that Ignis could really blame him, but...

“Not sure he’s gonna be on board with the whole ‘saving his life’ thing, to be honest.” Prompto was staring into the fire, looking unusually melancholy. 

Ignis wanted to disagree, but he couldn’t really deny Prompto’s point. With the fury Noct had displayed just arguing with Gladio over whether or not he could leave in the state he was in, he couldn’t see him taking their plans to save him particularly well. 

“No,” he murmured. “I suspect not.”

“What are we gonna do?”

Ignis took a long hard look at Prompto. He was still staring into the fire, not having once lifted his head to look at Ignis throughout their entire conversation. His face was still unusually pale, and there were dark shadows under his eyes. Perhaps they were going too quickly for everyone. 

“I’m not sure,” said Ignis.

“Think Pryna’s really going to show up again?”

He hoped so. Desperately. Perhaps even to the point of delusion. But he had to hope. It was their only chance...

“Yes,” he said. “She’ll come.” 

Prompto gave a small, and very false smile. “I guess that’s something to look forward to at least.”

“Indeed.” 

They’d have to wait and see. He just hoped the wait wouldn’t last too long. 

* * *

Noctis had killed about five wretched Mandrakes, four Shieldshears and a Gigantoad by the time the sun had all but vanished from the sky above. He had to go back. But he didn’t want to. 

He’d been turning it over in his mind as he surrendered to the rush of adrenaline, this horrible situation he’d gotten himself in. He couldn’t lie anymore—not with his temper flaring up like that for no good reason. But at the same time, the truth was equally as excruciating. The trouble was he’d left it too late. If he kept lying they’d leave. Even they, loyal to a fault, wouldn’t put with such nonsense from him for a prolonged period of time, over the course of which he’d try to be gathering an army. Even _he_ hated having to deal with it, and he wasn’t the one being shouted at. 

But if he told the truth then they’d surely go too. Prompto had been unhappy with him ever since he lashed out after getting shot. If he discovered that this was not the first, not the second, not even the tenth time Noctis had lost it like that—not at Prompto but at far higher beings—the Gods, then he must abandon him. No other option made sense. And Gladio and Ignis...well, they might stay. But it wouldn’t be out of loyalty but fear. And he despised that.

He’d come to the conclusion, then, that he had to send them away. They would know all that had happened—his lives, his deaths, just for a brief sense of closure. But they would not accompany him any further, whatever they said. For both their sake and his. 

The haven was drawing into sight again, and Noctis saw as he clambered over tree-trunks and large stones that Ignis and Prompto were still out, but of Gladio there was no sign. A disconcerting thought occurred to him—that he may have gone looking for him in the forest, gotten lost, might never return—but that was surely getting ahead of himself. He had no proof of that, not yet.

He jumped up onto the haven proper, the blue light dimmed slightly by the light of the crackling fire. 

As he did, both Ignis and Prompto turned to stare at him, their eyes wide with alarm. Scared, perhaps. 

“Hi,” he said. 

They both still looked at him rather blankly, faces uncomprehending, eyes blank. He _would_ tell them, he promised himself. But now was quite obviously not the time to do so. 

“Good night, then,” he said, then all but dove for the tent, not wanting to see their faces. The disappointment. 

It was cold inside, even with the sleeping bag, and Noctis lay on his side for hours with his eyes wide open, unable to find sleep. He lay there even as he heard the tent opening and Prompto getting inside, and he was awake long past the fire petering out, lost to the darkness. He wasn’t sure how long it was before he got to sleep that night. But it was long enough. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welp, looks like Noct's mental space isn't improving any time soon, huh? And he didn't even get the chance to warn them about Pryna... Exactly how bad of a decision this turns out to be is yet to be seen, but given Noct's luck, I wouldn't hold your hopes high.
> 
> Thank you so much to everyone still reading, and I hope you enjoyed this chapter. If so, please let me know!


	19. The Time has Come

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Previously: Noctis's temper continues to flare, and as the car breaks down, forcing the group to stop at camp, tensions reach a breaking point. Noctis storms off on his own, and the others speculate on whether they'll be able to save him at all. He returns, but the mood remains low.

Ignis awoke to the faintest glow of light just behind his eyelids. His thoughts were slow and groggy. Was it something inside the tent? Had he left the lamp on? But…no.

Two bright blue eyes stared into his, and a large, wet, snuffly nose was mere inches from his own. For a moment, every instinct he had urged him to scream. Then he realised what, or more accurately, _who_ he was looking at. 

Pryna was staring at him, her tongue lolling from her mouth, panting slightly. 

“You’re here,” he whispered as he pushed himself upright. “It really happened… Is it time?”

Pryna, seemingly knowing that it would be unwise to bark, gave a slow, deliberate nod. Ignis’s heart surged in his chest. They still had a chance—a chance to escape all this despair. If he really could save Noct…all his problems would be solved. 

Pryna was already heading towards the exit of the tent, her tail held high behind her, turning back to make sure he was following. He quickly clambered out of his sleeping bag to follow her. As he approached the entrance though, he noticed that the tent flap was already unzipped. But Pryna had already disappeared out of the tent, so he didn’t have long to think on the matter. He couldn’t afford to lose her, after all. 

The cold night air hit his face as he emerged onto the haven. For a moment he couldn’t see Pryna, and a jolt of horror shot through him—had he been too late? 

But no…to his left a dim light was visible just on the edge of his vision, and sure enough, when he turned, her white fur was slightly illuminated in the darkness. She was sitting by Noct and Prompto’s tent, looking at him meaningfully. It didn’t take a genius to guess what she wanted him to do. Their tent, however, was not unzipped. 

Approaching as quietly as he could, he took hold of the zip, and began to raise it as slowly and silently as he could. With each tooth that came undone, he could hear his heart beating loudly in his chest, so loud he was afraid one of the occupants might hear it and wake of their own accord. But there was no sign of movement within the tent, even as the flap was fully undone, and Pryna went trotting inside. 

She made a beeline for Noctis, lying unconscious on his side, and she moved around to his left, then stared up at Ignis, as though she wanted him to follow her. He crept over to where she was, desperately hoping that Noctis wouldn’t suddenly wake up to the two of them staring at him. 

Seeing he was now in place, she lent forward ever so slightly, until her nose was almost touching Noct’s hand. For a moment Ignis was confused, but then he saw what she meant. Her nose was pointed at the Ring, still there on Noct’s middle finger. 

A draught as sharp and cold as ice froze his lungs as a voice whispered to him on the wind.

_Take the Ring, oh noble retainer. It is the Key to the King’s salvation._

The Ring? But the Ring was powerful—dangerous, and he found himself quite suddenly remembering Gladio’s words on the airship. 

* * *

“I mean—are we sure it’s genuine? Pryna’s an Astral Messenger, right? They’ve not exactly been on our side lately.” 

* * *

What if this was all a trap? But then…this was the only option he was being offered to save Noct. And that vision he’d seen through Pryna—the sword, the blood pooling around Noct’s chest, King Regis’s eyes, cold and hard… No. He could not condemn him to that fate. He had to try. 

He knelt down, so as not to lose his balance in attempting to take the Ring, and slowly, incredibly slowly, he reached out, his fingers closing around the cold metal. Noct remained motionless. Pryna stared at him, her bright blue eyes seeming to bore through him, as though examining his soul, asking why he hadn’t taken the Ring yet. She was his only chance. With as much care as he could muster, he shifted the Ring, twisting it loose, and carefully, so carefully every centimetre seemed to take hours, he pulled it from Noct’s finger. 

It felt heavy in the palm of his hand, as though it’s symbolic weight had been made somehow real in the strange reality of the Astrals. 

He glanced back at Pryna, whose tail was wagging furiously, her mouth slightly open, a gleam in her eyes that suggested she was pleased. He had the Ring now. What next?

Almost as if she heard the question ringing in his head, Pryna rose to her feet, and circled back around Noctis, to where Prompto lay unconscious in his sleeping bag. She gave him the briefest nudge in the back with her nose, and Prompto gave a quiet groan, clearly beginning to wake up. The danger was obvious. 

Ignis quickly ran around to his side, finger on his lips as Prompto’s eyes flickered open and he opened his mouth to speak. Fortunately he seemed to get the message before Ignis had to clap his hands over his mouth, and very quickly shut it again. Ignis pointed to Pryna, now sitting in the entrance to the tent, and Prompto looked on the verge of speaking again, but Ignis glared at him and he quickly desisted. 

They hurried out of the tent, Prompto briefly glancing back at Noct as he did, before Ignis finally let him speak in the quietest whisper. 

“What’s going on?” he asked. “Is it time?”

“Yes,” said Ignis, and he would have said more, but Pryna was already moving back to his tent, where Gladio still lay sleeping. “Just a moment.”

“Guess she wants you to wake him too.”

“It’s only fair, I suppose.” 

He crept back into his tent, where, sure enough, Pryna was already nudging Gladio in an attempt to wake him up. He was deeply asleep though, and Ignis could see it would take a little more to rouse him from his slumber. He knelt down beside Gladio and gave his shoulder a firm shake. 

For all he was a deep sleeper, Gladio was much quicker to wake, and was sitting upright in seconds. “What’s—”

“Shh!” hissed Ignis.

“Sorry,” whispered Gladio. “What’s going on?”

Ignis nodded at Pryna, who cheerily wagged her tail. 

“So,” he mumbled, “she actually turned up.”

“Quickly, we must follow her.”

“Alright, alright, I’m getting up,” he grunted, climbing out of his sleeping bag. 

Pryna led them back outside to where Prompto still stood waiting for them, his face made an odd blue-ish colour by the eerie light of the haven. The forest behind them was so dark it was almost impossible to see within.

“So,” asked Gladio, once they were out in the open, “what happens now?” 

Pryna tipped her head away from the camp, towards the path that led back toward the road, then padded over to the edge of the haven, clearly waiting for them to follow her. 

“I think our next course of action is clear,” said Ignis, watching her carefully. “She wishes us to follow her. We must do so.”

“But how long d’you think we’ll be gone for?” asked Prompto, glancing back at Noct’s tent. “I mean, what if he wakes up and we’re gone?” 

Gladio snorted. “Think he’ll be bothered?”

It was hard to see in the darkness, but Ignis was fairly sure Prompto’s cheeks were flushed as he stared down at the ground. 

“It’s true we may be away for some time,” he said. “Perhaps we can write a note to inform him where we’ve gone.” 

“I suppose that’ll be fine,” sighed Gladio, as though he still didn’t much like the idea.

“I’ll write it,” said Prompto, looking a bit cheerier. 

It didn’t take long for Prompto to scribble out a note and retreat into the tent to place it there for Noct to find the next morning. With all those loose ends tied up, it was finally time to follow Pryna and find out what they needed to do to save Noct. 

As soon as they approached her she began trotting off again at a little faster than walking pace, leading them away from the haven. 

“Think we’ll be alright with the daemons?” asked Prompto as he scrambled after them. “Not to start off on the pessimistic note or anything.” 

It was true that the darkness was almost oppressively thick out in the wilderness, but somehow Ignis felt unafraid. If this was the work of the Gods, and he was sure by now that it must be, they would surely have put some sort of protection in place for them. 

“I think we’ll be fine,” he said, ducking under a branch as Pryna led them further and further along the path. “As long as Pryna remains by our side I doubt we’ll have much trouble with daemons.”

“If you say so.”

Ignis noticed Gladio was still holding his sword quite tightly over his shoulder. 

“We should probably get weapons out just in case, right?” asked Prompto. “Dunno how far away we’re gonna be from Noct, right?”

An unusually astute statement from Prompto, and Ignis found himself wondering why he hadn’t thought of it himself. Perhaps he’d gotten a little too focused on the goal...

“An excellent idea,” he said, pulling his preferred set of daggers from the Armiger. It had been providing a bit more resistance than usual, and Ignis found his thoughts straying back to the increasingly dire situation with Noct’s magic as they walked. 

Perhaps this solution the Gods promised involved neutralising his power somehow? If so it would be a considerable risk...but wouldn’t it be worth it for his life? 

Soon they were coming up upon the road where they’d left the Regalia.

“Hope she doesn’t expect us to drive there,” said Gladio. 

“I’m sure she realises that’s not an option, Gladio,” said Ignis.

“Yeah,” said Prompto, skipping up to them, “Pryna’s a pretty sharp dog, pretty sure she knows better than that.”

“We’ll have to wait and see then.” 

Sure enough, after waiting for a moment at the edge of the road, and actually looking back and forth to see if anything was coming, Pryna was scampering across, and once she got to the other side she gave a short bark, as if to say ‘hurry up’. 

They crossed the road with relative ease—there were very few people driving around nowadays it seemed, and once they were across to the other side, Pryna began running off ahead of them at a breakneck speed.

“Hey, woah!” cried Gladio, already chasing after her. “Slow down!”

Pryna did not slow down. Either she was doing this deliberately to catch them off balance, or her dog-like nature had taken over in her excitement, and all three of them had to go sprinting across the plains in the darkness, following her glowing white form always just ahead of them. 

They ran and ran, and even though Ignis was panting, and knew he’d been running for far longer than he should, somehow he didn’t feel very much tireder for it at all. How strange. Another act of divine intervention, perhaps? 

They kept going all the way to the riverbank that led into Cleigne proper, at which point Pryna finally came to a stop.

“Finally!” panted Prompto, leaning heavily on his knees. “Six, these Gods really are gonna kill us.”

“Somehow I doubt we’ve reached our destination,” said Ignis, glancing up at the fast-running river just ahead of them. 

“Yeah, don’t see much here that could help Noct,” said Gladio.

Prompto gave a put-upon sigh, then rose upright again. “Okay. So where do we go from here, girl?” 

Pryna gave a short yap, then, still wagging her tail furiously, she clambered down the riverbank to the edge of the water, where Ignis now noticed there seemed to be a dark shape hovering on the water. 

“What is that?” asked Prompto, moving a bit closer.

“I think it’s a boat,” said Gladio, moving forward himself. 

As they approached, the dark shape became clearer, and a small wooden boat manifested itself before them, oars on either side, tied to a small wooden post.

“I’m, uh, pretty sure I’ve never seen this thing before,” said Prompto, gingerly stepping inside to join Pryna. 

“Hey, if it gets us across it gets us across,” said Gladio, taking a seat and picking up the oars. “I’ll row if you push us in, Iggy.” 

Ignis nodded, heading for the post to undo the rope. The knot wasn’t overly complex, thankfully, so this boat must be a form of rudimentary public transport for those unable to obtain a car. Or at least, that was what Ignis hoped. He didn’t like the idea of accidentally stealing someone’s boat and leaving them stranded, but with Pryna leading them relentlessly onwards they didn’t have much of a choice.

While still holding the rope tightly in his hand, he braced both palms agains the edge of the boat and pushed it into the water, leaping aboard before it drifted too far into the river.

“Nice!” cried Prompto as he clambered safely aboard.

Gladio was a powerful rower, and it wasn’t long before they were off the rickety old boat and back on dry land again. Ignis couldn’t say he wasn’t glad to be off it. 

Pryna was already moving away from them, giving them no time to sit and relax. 

“Geez, you’re on a mission, aren’t you, girl?” said Prompto, beginning to jog after her once again. 

“It’ll take us a while to get back without her guiding us, that’s for sure,” muttered Gladio.

Ignis said nothing, just watching carefully as Pryna led them onwards.

She seemed to have a specific location in mind, and he was curious to see where it was. Some bastion of the Gods’ power, perhaps? Somewhere even Noct didn’t know of? But then, he hardly knew everything. Otherwise they wouldn’t be having such trouble with this. 

Finally, after another long stretch over empty plains, they reached Taelpar Crag. 

The canyon stretched out before them; dark and so vast it was impossible to see to the bottom, even in the bright light of day. The curved arches of rock which rose from it’s depths were just barely visible below. 

“Looks like we’re at a dead end,” said Gladio.

“I’m not so sure,” said Ignis. “I’ve heard there lies a ruin within the Crag—a place known as the Tempering Grounds.”

“That’s here?” Gladio’s eyes widened a little.

“I’m sorry what?” asked Prompto. “What are the ‘Tempering Grounds’?”

“They’re an ancient ruin—supposed to be a test of strength for any who enter. It used to be traditional for a Shield to try and explore it, but my father never got the chance, what with the war.”

“It is possible that this is where Pryna is leading us.”

“Huh,” said Prompto, peering over the edge. “Gotta say I don’t see an easy way down.”

Pryna gave a bark from a spot a few feet away from them. They hurried over, but it was impossible to see anything in the darkness.

“I...don’t see anything?” said Prompto.

Then Pryna disappeared.

“Where did she go?” cried Gladio in alarm, but almost as soon as the words left his mouth, she was back again. 

It was a bit clearer to see this time that she’d emerged from somewhere under the cliff.

“Ah, could you show us a bit more slowly, Pryna?” he asked, and she barked, before disappearing once again.

This time, it was clear where she went. It was practically invisible from anywhere else on the cliff edge, but just at the edge was a dip that led down to a thin, steep walkway, leading down into the Crag. 

“So, there’s our way down,” said Prompto, quietly.

“Well then, what are we waiting for? Let’s go.” Gladio had entered the passageway before anyone could stop him. Prompto looked desperately up at Ignis, but he could hardly give up on their quest now, so he just gave him a sympathetic smile, before following Gladio down into the depths.

Pryna walked a little way ahead of them, lighting up the path—which was good as it was so narrow even one wrong step could send someone plummeting off the edge. It was no wonder the path wasn’t often used. 

As they descended deeper and deeper into the Crag, the path got a little wider, and there was enough space to walk safely—though only just barely. 

“I’m not sure this is the way to the Tempering Grounds,” said Gladio, once they were about halfway down. “According to the stories we ought to be inside by now if they were.”

“Maybe there’s something else here?” suggested Prompto. “Right at the very bottom.”

“I fear we will simply have to rely on Pryna not to lead us astray,” said Ignis, ducking under a low piece of rock.

Gladio snorted. “At least she seems to know where she’s going.” 

The deeper they got, the more the path seemed like a subterranean cavern than a walkway carved into the edge of a cliff. The sky drew further and further from them, as did the high stone arches curving over the top of the cavern, creating the impression of going deep into the depths of some mountain. Soon it was almost impossible to see the sky without craning your head back until your neck ached. Without Pryna there Ignis would have found it deeply unnerving, but she never wavered as she led them deeper into the cave. 

Eventually, after what felt like hours of walking—and indeed the sky was beginning to lighten far above them, they reached the bottom of the Crag. It was obvious the moment they stepped onto the flat ground where Pryna wanted to take them next. Across from them, so deep as to be impossible to see from the top of the canyon, was a cave, carved into the rock. But it was more than just a cave. Coming out from the edges, like veins towards the heart, fissures of some pale, crystalline rock led into the cave, lit from within by an eerie purple light of the same quality that illuminated Pryna’s fur. 

“Is that it?” asked Gladio, as Pryna began padding towards it. 

“Has to be,” said Prompto.

“Indeed,” said Ignis. “I believe this is the location Pryna meant to lead us to.”

“What do you think’s inside?” asked Prompto.

“Guess we’ll have to wait and see,” said Gladio, but Ignis couldn’t quite hear him, already following after Pryna.

They were so close now. It couldn’t be much longer—then they would finally have it—some way to save Noct.

Even the brief pulses of light that got quicker as he approached could not deter him.

Once he was inside, his eyes quickly adjusted to the darkness, but the veins provided some small light, so the inside of the cave was fairly clear to see. It was cold down there. He hadn’t noticed on the way down, but now the chill seemed to freeze his bones. There was ice lining the walls. His breath was visible in the cold air. 

As Prompto and Gladio entered the cave behind him, the light from the crystal veins flickered and grew brighter, a white-blue light shining from the walls. The air got colder still. 

Pryna looked back at them, and gave a short bark, as if to indicate they weren’t quite done yet. Ignis glanced at the others and they shrugged. Time to keep moving ahead. 

They couldn’t have been walking for very long before Ignis found he could not remember which way they came in through the caves. They’d gone through so many twists and turns it was impossible to recall—but that wouldn’t matter if Pryna stayed with them. All that mattered now was finding the answer to saving Noct.

Finally, they came into a vast inner chamber, colder than any they’d gone through before, and as they entered, the light grew brighter and sharper for a moment.

_Ah._

The voice seemed to echo all inside the cave, impossible to guess which direction it was coming from. 

_The noble retainers have arrived. Welcome._

It was the same voice as before—only now Prompto and Gladio seemed to hear it too, as their faces became pale, and they looked around in alarm for the source of the voice. 

“We’ve done as you asked,” Ignis said aloud, hoping it would hear him. 

_Yes. A brave choice these mortals have made, prepared to give All for the sake of their King. They have done well in coming here. But there is more still to come._

The room got colder still, and Ignis found himself shivering in spite of himself. 

_Before them lie three tasks, one for each retainer._

The three tunnels that led ahead became brighter.

_Should they complete these tasks, they will win the power necessary to save their King. Should they fail, however, they will remain frozen in these depths for eternity._

Ignis swallowed. He’d anticipated they may have to bargain their lives in order to save Noct’s—it was never simple dealing with the Gods, after all, but he’d been prepared for this. 

“I accept this,” he said aloud.

Prompto and Gladio remained silent, and Ignis turned to see what was wrong. Gladio was frowning deeply, as was Prompto, but after a moment of consideration, Prompto stepped forward too.

“I’ll do it.”

That just left Gladio. Ignis hadn’t expected him to be so hesitant, but he seemed to realise there was little point in backing out now, and finally stepped forward.

“Fine,” he said, though he didn’t sound happy about it. “If that’s what it takes.”

The light faded back to normal again, though Ignis got the sense the being that had given them this offer was pleased. 

_Do not delay, noble retainers. Or else the King’s plight will be sealed in stone._

Then the presence vanished, and the room got a little warmer.

“Guess we know what to do next then,” said Prompto, still shaking from the cold. 

“I guess,” said Gladio, still not looking happy.

“As they said,” said Ignis, “the quicker we get this done the better.” 

Prompto nodded. “Then we can save Noct.” 

“Okay,” sighed Gladio, staring into the nearest tunnel. “I’ll see you guys on the other side.”

“See ya, big guy!” said Prompto.

Gladio disappeared into the tunnel. 

“Goodbye, Prompto,” said Ignis, eyeing his own. 

“Hey, no goodbyes—see you on the other side.”

Ignis smiled. “See you on the other side, Prompto.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alternate title for this chapter: Out of the frying pan and into the fire. Yikes.


	20. Alone

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Previously: Ignis, Prompto and Gladio are lured from the camp by Pryna and a mysterious voice that claims to be able to save Noctis's life. With the others now at the bottom of Taelpar Crag, Noctis has been left alone at camp.

Dim light glanced through the thin fabric of the tent. Was it morning already? 

Noctis blinked his eyes open, the faint, dewy smell of morning already thick in the air. But the mornings were coming so much later these days—it had to be at least ten o’clock already—why had no one woken him? He looked around the tent—Prompto was gone. Had they decided to let him have a lie in or something? Were they hesitant to wake him up after the debacle yesterday? If so he couldn’t exactly blame them...

But then his eyes fell on a small bit of paper, lying on the floor. 

He grabbed it and turned it over to see Prompto’s messy scrawl on the other side. What was this?

_Hey Noct,_

_Sorry about this but there’s not much time. We’re going to go out for a bit on a job—it’s hard to explain in the letter. Promise we’ll be back soon!_

_Prompto_

So they were gone. But to where? And why? The note said practically nothing about any of it. Job—what job? Why didn’t they wake him—tell him in person? What if someone had taken them in the night, forced Prompto to write the note? But there were no signs of a struggle. Not inside the tent anyway. In a second he leapt from the tent to look outside—but the camp was almost exactly as they’d left it that evening. Even Gladio and Ignis’s tent was still there. 

So...what—they’d just upped and left in the middle of the night for some job? Some job they hadn’t even told him about? Who’d given it to them? They were in the middle of nowhere. But...maybe it was just an excuse.

Perhaps he’d gone too far the day before. Too much for them. Perhaps they’d just left and wanted to give him some excuse for their leaving. That was the most likely answer.

Noctis sighed and ran his hand through his hair. It was getting so long now he was sure he must look like some ruffian. 

So they were gone. The note said they’d be back soon, but how soon was ‘soon’? He didn’t have all the time in the world, after all. And what if he really had been wrong and they had been kidnapped? He needed someone else to talk to about this—someone not caught so deeply in the situation like he was. 

He needed to find Cor. 

Fort Vaullerey was still several miles away, and the car wouldn’t be going anywhere any time soon. Noctis glanced up at the sky. The sun was bright, but it wasn’t high in the sky yet—it wasn’t as late as he’d feared. If he ran he could make it to the Fort before nightfall. He’d need to be fast though. 

He pulled all the essentials he thought he might need on the trip into the Armiger. He was all but ready to leave. He still thought it extremely likely that they simply had chosen to leave him permanently and simply left the note so as not to hurt his feelings, but the thought lingered—what if they really had just left for a while?

Well, they’d left him a note. It was only fair that he leave one in kind. 

_Hey guys,_

...How to continue? ‘I thought your note was a lie so I left’? Yeah, they’d appreciate that.

_I know you said you’d only be gone for a short while, but I can’t stay here forever. I need to go on and see Cor and...I guess check if everything’s alright in Lucis._

_Thanks for understanding,_   
_Noct_

Not his most eloquent piece but it would have to do. And he was leaving the tents in any case. 

He left the note in the centre of the haven, taking one last look before jumping off and heading down the path that led back to the road. He needed to move quickly so he set out at a jog, figuring that by now he’d be able to take the strain. 

The sun was warm, but the air strangely cold as he jogged, the chill seeming to eat at his throat and make it dry and painful as he ran. The leaves of the trees were beginning to go orange and brown, autumn finally falling upon Lucis. It was a while since he’d seen an autumn, in fact. 

It wasn’t long before he came upon the road, where the Regalia still lay stranded. They hadn’t fixed the car and run off then. That was something at least. Though it did mean he’d have to go the rest of the way on foot. 

The tarmac shone in the bright light of the sun, the road stretching on for miles in either direction. If he hadn’t known the roads of Lucis as well as he did he’d be entirely lost. Fortunately, he knew that if he just jogged alongside the road heading north for long enough, he’d get to Fort Vaullerey. 

He set off at a mild pace—he didn’t want to wear himself out too quickly, even if he was anxious to get to the Fort as soon as possible. 

It was odd, running alongside the road, alone. How long had it been since he’d last been alone? Mentally, he’d been alone for centuries, but as far as the others went? They never left his side, not willingly anyway. And oddly enough, as he ran, his feet pounding against the ground, wind rushing through his hair, he found that for the first time in a long time, he actually had space to think. 

Sense came back to him in bits and pieces. His mind was now almost entirely adjusted to his new memories, and less and less he found himself twisted up into knots over it. That pain he’d held so tightly inside had somehow been contorted, directed towards his friends rather than the memories swirling in his head. 

They didn’t understand why he had to die. He didn’t understand why they didn’t understand. In trying to adjust to his new age, his vast seniority, he’d forgotten what it was like before, when he was young and hopeful. Forgotten why he’d stayed trapped in the Crystal for ten years, desperately wishing not to die, his will worn away until he accepted his fate. All of that lay so far back in the mists of time that he’d utterly forgotten what it was to enjoy life—to hope for it—to look to the future.

And it wasn’t entirely his fault, either. Three hundred years was enough time to forget just about anything, but he felt embarrassed that he’d been so hostile to them, not for a moment considering why they would be so upset at the prospect of his death. He’d experienced loss: his dad, Luna. He knew what it was like. It was just...hard to recall in the mess of tension and argument and history that both existed and didn’t when he was with the others. He’d known them for centuries. They’d known him for a little more than a decade. Was it any wonder they had such trouble understanding him? 

What helped even less was his failure to articulate his depression, his tiredness, his sorrow. How could they possibly understand why he persisted in his miserable resignation if they didn’t even know how old he truly was—how dead to the world he’d become? How could they understand his conviction he needed to make things right if they didn’t know why he’d been so wrong in the first place? That he’d caused this war with his provocation towards the Gods?

All of it he’d hidden away. And why? Because he feared they would hate him. And it was true that they still _might_ —but by denying them even the knowledge they needed to make that decision, he was doing them a great disservice. How much more miserable would they be, if they discovered in the Beyond that it was he who had caused all their woes in this world? Wasn’t it better to tell them now?

And, of course, it was. 

Strange how, in the silence, his thoughts finally assembled themselves into coherency. He cared deeply for the others, but as he’d ruminated on so often, his fondness often deprived him of the common sense he required to make such decisions. 

Well, now he knew what he’d say if they returned. If. He was still undecided on whether they really were genuine in the letter. Not knowing why they had left was a problem, but equally, now he thought about them being kidnapped, he found it unlikely someone would take _them_ and leave him. It was all so strange... The sooner he got to Cor the better.

Sweat was beginning to stick to his arms as the sun refused to abate, but the cold chill in the air remained as well. His legs were beginning to ache terribly, but he did not stop jogging, even as his heart beat ever faster in his chest. One small advantage of having gone through so much already was that it had given him a type of resistance to pain he’d simply not had before. It was grim to be sure, but he felt he had to count it among his advantages. 

The curb just next to the road was getting increasingly difficult to jog along as the shrubs and bushes clumped more closely together, giving him a narrower and narrower strip to jog down. Soon he’d have to move onto the road proper. It was unlikely to be much of a problem—he’d seen no more than two cars in all the time he’d been going, and even when Ignis had been driving earlier there seemed to be fewer people on the road than there had been before. 

As he was forced to finally mount the road and begin jogging along the shiny tarmac, he glanced at the sky once again. The sun had passed it’s peak now, and was slowly beginning to descend in the sky. It wouldn’t be long before orange tones began to sink into the colour of the world. He hoped to reach Fort Vaullerey before sundown, at least. He couldn’t be far now. 

He was beginning to feel each footfall as a jolt that went through his entire body. He might have a higher pain tolerance than before, but he knew full well that weeks of neglect and over-stretching had made him weaker than before. He hadn’t been looking after himself, and now he was beginning to pay the price. Exhaustion was catching up with him. 

With every bend in the road he hoped to see Fort Vaullerey rising in the distance, but it was at least another hour before his hopes were fulfilled and he saw it outlined against the sky. He was beginning to shake as he ran, his body warning him it couldn’t take much more of this.

Just a bit further...

Pink and yellow tones shone through the clouds as he finally ran up to the gate of Fort Vaullerey, panting desperately as he tried to get his breath back after hours of running. Almost as soon as he stopped, the world started spinning alarmingly, black dots spotting his vision as his equilibrium was up-ended by his sudden stillness.

“Get back!” barked a voice from nearby—at first he thought it was directed at him, but he heard shuffling from nearby—someone else moving out of the way, footsteps approaching… Then a large hand grasped his shoulder. 

“Noctis? Is that you?” 

Noctis peered up at the source of the voice, and Cor’s hard face swam into his vision. He’d never been so happy to see him. 

“Cor,” he said, though it came out garbled as he still fought for breath.

“What happened?” asked Cor. “Where are the others?” 

Unable to answer coherently, Noctis instead removed the note they’d left him from his jacket and thrust it into Cor’s hand. 

He quickly uncreased and scanned it over, one hand still on Noctis’s shoulder, helping him stay upright. 

“I see,” he murmured. “Well, either they’ve been extremely foolish or they’ve managed to get themselves kidnapped.”

Noctis tried to say something to the effect of that he agreed, but as he tried to speak he was overwhelmed by a horrendous spate of coughing, and Cor hefted his arm over his shoulders, supporting him properly. 

“Sorry,” he said, “we should probably get you sat down—you’re obviously exhausted.”

Cor lead him swiftly through the compound, and though Noctis tried to keep track of the route to get an idea of the layout, he found his eyes unable to focus on anything, his thoughts halted in place.

Eventually he found himself being lowered onto a spindly chair with thin cushions, and a cold glass being thrust into his hands.

“Drink that,” said Cor. “You’re dehydrated.”

Noctis decided to take his word for it, and began drinking from the glass. The moment the water hit his lips he realised suddenly how thirsty he truly was, and downed the glass in less than a minute, the cool water soothing his burning throat. 

The cold seemed to bring him back to reality too, and he found he now could see where he was properly. 

Cor had led him into a small, office-like room, sparsely decorated with shelves loaded with files, a small wooden desk behind which Cor sat, watching him, and the window, which was still open to let in the cool breeze.

“Thanks,” said Noctis, placing the glass back on the desk. “I needed that.”

“How far did you have to run to get here?” asked Cor. “Why didn’t you drive?” 

“Car ran out of petrol,” sighed Noctis. “And I don’t have a phone or anything anymore so I couldn’t call anyone to toe it. That was back at Malmalam Thicket.”

Cor raised his eyebrows. “You ran from Malmalam Thicket all the way here?”

“Yeah, well it wasn’t exactly easy.” 

“It’s a wonder you aren’t worse off,” said Cor, eyeing him critically. “But that’s by the by—can you explain to me the context of this extraordinary note you have here?”

Cor slid it across the table, as if to remind him on the contents. As though he could forget.

“I think they’ve left,” he said, the words out before he could stop them. “Gotten fed up of dealing with me.”

Cor still looked skeptical. “Even if that were the case, Ignis and Gladio have sworn an oath—”

“To stay by my side, yeah, I know. It’s...gotten pretty complicated.”

Cor’s lips thinned slightly. “In what way?”

Noct stared at him for a long stretch. But as he’d decided on the way here, keeping secrets was doing him no good at all. 

“It’s a long story,” he said.

Cor folded his arms. “I’m in no hurry.” 

Where to begin? Had Cor known about that business before? They hadn’t mentioned it...

“Do you know about what happened with the Starscourge?”

“You mean you hiding it from them until the point you almost died?” Cor’s voice was harsh. “Yes, I was there at Cape Caem.”

Ouch.

“I wasn’t thinking straight,” he said, which was true enough. 

“They said you’d been acting strangely ever since Hammerhead. Something happen back in the city? You can talk to me, Noctis.”

Noctis gave a thin smile. “I know. But it’s a bit more complicated than just something happening back in the city. I didn’t tell the others because I was afraid they wouldn’t believe me. They know now, though.”

“Know what?”

“That...ah, it’s always so hard to explain. I time travelled.”

Cor’s eyes widened. “You mean this seriously?”

“Deadly serious.”

Cor frowned. “No wonder you were worried no one would believe you.”

“Do you?”

“I would like you to explain a little further before I make any such judgements.”

Noctis smiled. This was going better than he expected. “That’s fair. What do you want to know?”

Cor frowned, his brow creasing deeply. “I’d say ‘everything’, but from your tone I suspect that wouldn’t help.” He shook his head, as though trying to dislodge a troubling thought. “How did this happen, for a start?”

There were quite a lot of ways he could answer that question, and even though Noctis fully intended to be honest with the others when he met them, he wasn’t so sure he wanted Cor knowing the full story. He was much less likely to be sympathetic than them, after all. 

“I, um, asked the Gods to send me back in time,” he said. 

“And they granted your wish? Why?”

…There was…no delicate way to say the next bit.

“Well, you see, they kind of owed me one for letting humanity go extinct,” muttered Noctis, half-hoping Cor wouldn’t hear. 

“ _What?_ ” 

Yeah. He’d known that wouldn’t go down well. 

“Extinct? How? Why? Are you joking, Noctis?”

“I am definitely not joking,” Noctis said quickly, well-aware of how dangerous it would be for Cor to get the wrong idea. “Things went…bad.”

Cor pinched the bridge of his nose in acute frustration. “How did this happen?”

Noctis glanced out of the window. The sky was already a deep orange. It was only three o’clock. 

“Have you heard about the Prophecy?” 

Cor blinked. “Prophecy?”

Oh. He had known that, he thought. But he’d forgotten. Still, it was nice to have a reminder that he wasn’t the only one who’d been left in the dark with regards to his destiny-sanctioned death. 

“Yeah, it’s this whole big thing. Or was. I suppose it still _is_ —”

“Would you please get on with it and explain?”

“Alright, alright!” said Noctis, raising his hands. “Way back when I was about five or something, Dad heard a prophecy from the Crystal. Darkness was going to fall over the kingdom, bringing ruin, etcetera, but a King of Light would rise and save it from the darkness—at the cost of his own life, of course.”

“And that King was…”

“Me! Go figure.”

Cor’s frown became even deeper, and Noctis almost felt kind of sorry for him. “Why did he never tell me…?”

“Dunno. I mean, really, the pertinent question is why he never told _me_ , being as I was the one going to die, but neither of us can ask him so it doesn’t really matter. Point is: that’s the Prophecy.”

Noctis could almost see the cogs turning in Cor’s mind. “And you…failed at your task?”

“I mean…failed is awfully harsh. Technically I did everything right.”

Cor glared at him, “But somehow humanity still went extinct? Noctis, you can’t possibly—”

“There were rules that weren’t explained!” Noctis snapped. “Things I didn’t know that…” He sighed. “No, you’re right. I…failed.”

Cor’s expression became a tiny bit more forgiving. “What happened?”

Noctis exhaled deeply, the memories still vivid in his mind’s eye, even though they’d happened nearly three centuries ago. Cor didn’t need to know about all that though.

“To skip over a lot, I needed to be trapped in the Crystal to gain the power to defeat the darkness, but I got stuck in there too long. By the time I managed to get out, it was already too late.”

“I see,” murmured Cor. “And so you asked to come back.”

“Yes,” he said quietly. “To try and do it right, this time…”

To think he’d once had such noble intentions…

“…This doesn’t explain why you contracted the Starscourge.”

Noctis clicked his tongue. “Well, the Gods didn’t quite do it right. I forgot that I asked them, you see—complete amnesia of the whole thing. So from my perspective I just kind of died and woke up in Leide. I thought I was being punished for doing it wrong.”

Not that he didn’t deserve that at this point, but still…

“That does explain some things,” Cor acknowledged, “and I think I understand a bit better why you were acting the way you were, but…there’s still this to deal with, isn’t there?”

He nodded at the letter sat before them on the table. Noctis felt as though it were judging him somehow.

“What have you heard about what we’ve been doing?” asked Noctis. 

Cor gave a hefty sigh. 

“All sorts of impossible, illogical things,” he grumbled. “People claim you’ve gone to war with the very Gods themselves, others claim you’re using them to try and conquer the continent—there are eyewitness accounts of Leviathan reappearing in Altissia...honestly Noctis, I don’t know what to think.”

Noctis tried not to flinch at the idea people thought he was trying to conquer the continent with the Gods—that the rampage in Altissia had been deliberate. He clasped his hands together tightly, willing the pain to take his mind off it, trying to focus on the present, to think of a way to explain the mess he’d gotten himself into coherently. His fingers ached. He couldn’t think. 

And he found he couldn’t explain either, not properly, and Cor was still staring at him, waiting for answers. He decided to boil it down to one question.

“Have you considered the Gods may not be on our side?”

Cor blinked. “Well, I mean, personally, no—though history does suggest... What are you talking about, Noctis?” 

“So I asked the Gods to send me back, right?” he said, playing with one of the pens Cor had left on the desk—anything to keep from looking him in the eyes. “And they screwed it up. But not just by taking my memory—oh no. Now my magic’s completely out of control too, and because of that Bahamut wants to kill me, so now I’ve got to die for the Prophecy and also stop that _bastard_ wiping out humanity—”

Cor held up his hand to get him to stop. 

“Noctis. You’ve taken a few logical leaps there.” 

Noctis sighed. “Yeah... I know.”

“Explain clearly. Slowly. I’m not here to punish you.”

He would be, if he knew what had actually happened, but Noctis wasn’t telling him that. 

“My magic’s messed up because of time travel,” he said, deciding to start out with the most relevant fact.

“How are you defining ‘screwed up’?” 

“I’m defining it as...exploding out uncontrollably, hurting both myself and others.”

Cor grimaced. “And how uncontrollably are we talking?”

“I get pissed: boom, explosion.”

Cor clicked his tongue. “I know you’ve probably heard this before, but have you tried being...less angry?” 

“I have,” said Noctis. “It’s not been working out great. I should mention it’s not just when I get angry: it’s...fairly temperamental whenever I try to use it now. It just gets much worse when I’m angry.”

“I see,” said Cor. “And the Gods did not anticipate this?”

“No,” said Noctis, coldly. “They think that, if left unchecked, my magic will eventually tear the world apart—and in fairness to them they probably aren’t wrong, but the whole point is that I’ll die before that happens.”

“Earlier you spoke of all of humanity dying,” said Cor, sounding slightly doubtful.

Noctis scowled. “Bahamut...has issues.”

“Issues with you?”

“Issues with me that he is currently projecting onto all of humanity, meaning that unless I do something quickly, everyone on the star is going to die. Don’t ask why. There’s no logic to it.”

A blatant lie this time, but it was easier to lie than try to explain the full extent of his relationship with the Gods at present. 

Cor exhaled sharply. “We’ll return to that in a minute,” he said. “Your friends—I assume this is related to why they left?”

Ah, back onto the difficult bit. Fun. 

“They’re...not exactly _happy_ about the fact I have to die to save the world.” 

He tried to sound neutral, but he was acutely aware of the fact his voice was already shaking. 

Cor shook his head, as if to try and get his thoughts in order before answering. “That is...hardly surprising, given they’ve dedicated much of their lives to attempting to keep you alive.”

Noctis nodded pensively. He knew that intellectually, of course, but materially... Why was it all so difficult?

“And I hesitate to think that alone would induce them to leave you.” Cor was watching him carefully, searching for something. “You say you drove them away?”

Noctis could feel his throat clenching up. It was all his fault, in the end, no matter how much he tried to hide it. The least he could do was come clean about this much. “I did. It was my fault. I couldn’t admit that my magic was out of control—that they’d have to deal with the consequences. I thought I had a handle on it before, in Tenebrae, but once we came back to Altissia...”

“I’ve heard stories,” Cor interrupted, “that Leviathan rose from the depths again and began purging the city. Was that you?”

“I didn’t mean for it to happen!” Noctis yelled, before realising Cor wasn’t actually shouting at him, and took a few deep breaths to try and calm his heart racing in his chest. He cleared his throat, trying to get his voice back before speaking again. “I didn’t try to summon her. I got injured while trying to drive off the MTs, and the Gods are...obliged to help me, I guess. She came and...”

“Wrecked everything?” Cor finished neatly. 

“Yeah,” snorted Noctis. “That’s a graceful way of putting it. Who knows how many people died because of me?” 

“You made no effort to try and quell her rage?” asked Cor, his voice curiously level. 

“I tried,” said Noctis. “But that’s when it all started going wrong. My magic took over. I got rid of Leviathan but I couldn’t tell where I was— _what_ I was, anymore. The others came to try and help me but I attacked them. I...hurt them.”

Tears were rising to his eyes. He blinked furiously. 

“Were they permanently injured?” asked Cor. 

“No,” croaked Noctis, though it was small consolation. 

“Do you think there’s a great danger of it happening again?” 

Noctis swallowed hard, trying to think. Of him losing control like that again? Not unless he had to fight another God. But given Bahamut must surely try for another one soon...

“If I have to fight Titan or Ramuh, then yes.”

“But otherwise?”

Noctis frowned. “No.”

Cor’s cold blue eyes were still staring at him—through him. “Does your magic often hurt others in this manner when you lose control?”

Noctis thought back to the ship, to him getting overwhelmed with grief...

“It could, if they were nearby, I suppose...”

“But...” Cor encouraged. 

“Mostly it rebounds on me,” he said. “Like it’s trying to tear me apart from the inside. That’s the whole problem.”

“I see.” Cor was still staring at him, a certain something in his eyes. “So the real danger is to yourself.”

Noctis pursed his lips. “Well...”

“I can see you’ve needed to talk about this for some time,” he said, before Noctis could go any further. “It’s not surprising to me if you’ve been lashing out as a result. The more troubling question is where Prompto, Ignis and Gladio have gone, and why they would leave so abruptly.”

Noctis nodded mutely, unable to disagree. 

“But,” said Cor, his expression a bit softer, “I can see you aren’t quite ready to talk about it. So let us return to the question of humanity’s destruction. Did you have any plans in that regard?”

Noctis gave a deep sigh. “We’ve been trying to persuade people to help us fight against the Gods. When we reached Caem, Cid sent us to you.”

Cor nodded. “I understand.” 

“You’ll help us?”

“I’ll do my best,” said Cor, heaving a sigh. “We’ve not got too many people here to be honest with you. Daemon attacks have been on the rise, so most of the people who actually know what they’re doing are out of town dealing with that. I could arrange for more people to come though. Was it Tenebrae you said you were based at?”

Noctis nodded mutely. 

“That’s far,” murmured Cor. “But that’s a bridge we’ll cross when we come to it. For now we ought to focus on locating your missing companions.”

Now he’d gotten all that off his chest, he found he was able to think a little more clearly than before, and all of a sudden, an idea came to him.

“Cor,” he said.

Cor turned to him.

“They’ve left like this before—well, Gladio has, at least.”

Cor frowned. “This occurred in this...other world you spoke of?”

“Yes.” One of them, anyway. “He got defeated by Ravus in combat. It scared him, I think, thinking he wasn’t strong enough to protect me. He left not long after—he went to the Proving Grounds, trying to get stronger.”

“I doubt that’s happened this time, Noctis, no offence—”

“No, you’re right they probably haven’t gone there,” said Noctis. “But what if something similar happened this time? What if they left to try and save my life or something?”

Cor pursed his lips, but didn’t appear disapproving. “It’s possible,” he murmured. 

“I have no idea where they might have gone,” Noctis admitted. “But we had a really big argument...”

To his surprise, Cor chuckled. “I doubt that alone proved the trigger. After all, Gladio and Ignis have been dealing with you for almost your entire life.”

Noctis was tempted to say ‘not like this’, but he did not. “If they found something—some sort of clue...” he said, thinking along the same lines as before. 

“It would explain why they left in the middle of the night without informing you,” said Cor, growing serious again. “You believe this to be the case?”

Noctis sighed. “I don’t see any other answer.”

Cor nodded, then looked him up and down. “You ought to get some rest after running all the way here,” he said, his voice betraying his concern. “There’s a room near the wall you can take. In the meantime I’ll begin organising things to get people over to Tenebrae.”

Cor went silent for a moment, frowning deeply. Something was clearly eating at him. 

“Everything okay?” asked Noctis, unsure if he wanted to hear the answer. 

“All is well,” said Cor, as if by rote. “But there is something...only if you were willing, of course...”

“What is it?” asked Noctis, not at all keen on this sudden quietness on Cor’s part. 

“I believe it would be wise for you to make some sort of speech outlining your cause—perhaps in Lestallum. It is not strictly necessary, you understand,” he said quickly, probably seeing the look on Noctis’s face. “It would merely give me the legitimacy to begin amassing people on a broad scale. You’d be surprised how much faith they have in people such as you, Noctis. And similarly, it would help quell the recent rumours that your cause is…less than just.”

Noctis bit his lip. He didn’t like the sound of that, but he saw Cor’s point. And it could hardly hurt, could it?

“Alright,” he said, though he wasn’t at all sure about the plan. “I’ll do it.”

Cor broke into a tense smile, then moved over to the door and pushed it open. “I’ll show you to where you can rest.”

Noctis followed him out of the tiny office-building, and into the complex proper. It somehow seemed larger than it had before, with more makeshift buildings than it usually had—probably since it was now an impromptu base for Lucians rather than Nifs who could up and leave at any second. It wasn’t far to the small hut Cor indicated was where Noctis should sleep. It wasn’t much to look at, but Noctis was just happy to have his own bed in his own room for once. 

“Oh, and, Noctis,” said Cor, as he began to leave, “Iris wants to see you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What's this? Noctis willingly volunteering information about his past? Is this progress we see? I mean, he still didn't come clean about the multiple loops thing, but in fairness to him, the time travel alone was a lot to try and dump on Cor all at once. Baby steps. 
> 
> Thank you to everyone still reading, and I hope you enjoyed this chapter! If so, please let me know!


	21. The Calm before the Storm

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Previously: Noctis, upon discovering the absence of Ignis, Prompto and Gladio goes to Fort Vaullerey to explain the situation to Cor. He reveals his time travel and together they come to the conclusion that Noctis's retinue have likely gone off to try and save his life somehow, though they still have no idea where they've gone. At the end of their meeting, Cor mentions to Noctis that Iris would like to see him.

As it turned out, Iris found him before he found her. 

“Noct!” she cried, rushing over to him, as he stared blankly at yet another makeshift building he was sure hadn’t been there before.

“Iris!” he cried, and within moments she was crushing him as she wrapped her spindly arms around him, holding him tightly in place. “Yeah, I missed you too,” he chuckled, lightly hugging her back.

“I’m so glad you’re okay!” she said, releasing him and looking him up and down. “After you left for Altissia we didn’t really hear anything—I figured the thing with Leviathan must have been you, but no one said anything about it. You _are_ okay, right? Lady Lunafreya got rid of the Starscourge?”

“Sure did,” said Noctis, deciding now was not the time to get into his time travelling problems with Iris. 

“What’s up with your hair?” she asked, which was not a question he’d been expecting. “Do they not have hairdressers out there?”

Noctis couldn’t help but think grimly that what with the situation in Accordo, Niflheim, and even the tenuous peace in Tenebrae, no, there probably _weren’t_ any hairdressers left around. His hair had gotten a bit longer in their absence (in fact, he was beginning to look eerily like his older self) but he didn’t think it looked _too_ bad. 

“Nope,” he said lightly. “Haven’t really had time for a haircut, to be honest.”

“I bet Gladdy looks awful,” Iris snickered, but then her expression became sullen again. 

“Yeah,” said Noctis, quietly. “Sorry he couldn’t be here.”

Iris sighed deeply and scratched the side of her head. “It’s not your fault,” she said glumly. “Cor told me all about it.”

Well he’d obviously left out the part where Noctis repeatedly mentioned it was all his fault, but it seemed there was nothing to be done about that now. Still, there was an aspect to it he was still concerned about. 

“Um, how much did Cor tell you, exactly?”

“Hmm?” said Iris. “Oh, not a lot, I guess. He said I ought to ask you about most of it.”

“Right.” That meant Cor had helpfully left him with the task of breaking it to Iris that he was soon to face his imminent death. Fun. 

“What did you want to know, exactly?” he asked, beginning to walk away from the centre of the camp, towards the large stone walls that surrounded it. 

He didn’t want anyone else to see him while he was discussing this. Especially since it had a decent chance of making Iris cry. 

“Um, Cor said kind of a lot,” said Iris, blushing slightly. “I guess...what happened after you left? How close was it with Lady Lunafreya?”

Ah, good. An easy one to start with.

“We made it to Altissia in time,” he said. “The others weren’t happy with me, obviously, but Luna healed me before it got super bad. It turned out okay.”

Iris looked a little disappointed with that answer. Evidently she’d been expecting something a bit more exciting.

“But what happened after?” she asked. “With Leviathan? I heard she almost flooded the entire city!”

Noctis winced internally. Of course, Iris had no way of knowing that particular topic was a bit sensitive to him right now.

“It was pretty intense,” he said. “I’m just lucky I made it out more or less okay.”

“Did you get to use those Royal Arms you’ve been getting?” 

“Yeah,” he said, trying to sound a little less miserable. “Turns out they’re super powerful too.”

“Nice!” said Iris, pumping her fists. 

Noctis, eager to get away from this topic of conversation, decided now would be a good moment to change it. “Anything else you wanted to know about?”

“Hmm,” said Iris, pursing her lips. “Oh, I’ve got it! Cor said you went all the way into Niflheim—what was it like? I’ve seen tons of people coming through that seem to be from there. Is it really bad?”

Six, he still hated Niflheim. Not the country, or the residents, so much. Just the darkness.

“Noct?”

Noctis realised he must have been glaring at the floor, and straightened up. 

“Sorry,” he said. “Lost in thought. It was...pretty bad, to be honest.”

Iris’s gleeful pretence had faded, but she still had a determined look in her eye.

“How bad?” 

“Awful. Never-ending night, daemons everywhere, no wind, no warmth. Just cold and dark. That’s what it’s like when the darkness comes.”

“What about the people?” 

Yes, she was definitely angling for something.

“Gone,” he said. “Either left or—” 

He cut himself off. Should he tell Iris about what the Starscourge really did? Would that scare her? But if he failed, somehow, if she had to stay here...she needed to know. She was staring at him expectantly. He cleared his throat.

“Or got turned into daemons.”

Iris’s eyes narrowed, but she showed no other sign of surprise. “Is that what happens?” she asked. “You stay there long enough and you get turned into one?”

“Not quite,” he sighed. “People get the Starscourge by being mauled by daemons, then it spreads until they get taken over completely.”

Iris had gone quite pale, but her tone was joking when she spoke. “Sounds like some zombie movie.”

Noctis chuckled. “I guess that’s not too far off.”

“But you got it and you’re okay,” she said, now staring at him.

“I got healed,” he said. “That’s part of the Oracle’s job.”

“Can she do that to daemons too?”

“No.” He still remembered the goblins from Gralea. “It’s too late by then. The kindest thing to do at that point is just kill them.”

“Right.” 

Iris seemed surprisingly okay with the idea.

“Thinking of going out there yourself?” Noctis asked, curious. 

“No!” said Iris, far too quickly. Noctis raised an eyebrow at her, making her blush. “Well, it’s not that simple,” she muttered defensively. “I just wanted to know what’s going on. Cor wouldn’t tell me anything before. I thought things were getting pretty bad, what with the night drawing in, but no matter who I asked they just tried to act like it was all normal or something. It felt like the world was ending and no one wanted to tell me. Is that right, Noct?”

Noctis clicked his tongue, pondering. “Well, I hope not.”

“That’s not an answer.”

He sighed. 

“Well, that’s because it kind of depends on what _I_ do how badly this goes.”

He could see Iris staring at him curiously from the corner of his eye.

“So this is all on you?” she asked. “You’re like...some kind of Chosen One?”

“It’s not like that!” he snapped. Iris flinched away slightly. “Sorry, I mean...it’s not that simple. There’s this...prophecy, about me. It says I’m the one who has to bring back the light.”

“Sounds like a Chosen One thing to me,” said Iris, teasingly.

“I have to die to do it.”

The silence that fell after that was almost suffocating, and Noctis stopped walking to give Iris some space to catch her breath. 

“What?” she asked, her voice now very small. 

Noctis sighed. He’d gotten the worst part out of the way. Now he could be a bit more accommodating. 

“It’s one of the conditions,” he said, turning to face her. There were already tears in her eyes. “I know it’s...hard to hear, but it has to happen.”

“When?” Her eyes were glistening, but she wasn’t crying yet. 

“Not yet,” he said. “There’s something else I need to do first, but soon we’ll be going back to Niflheim and... Well. I probably won’t come back.”

Iris clenched her jaw, and Noctis could see her breathing deeply, trying hard not to cry. 

“Come here,” he said, holding out his arms, and she rushed to him, wrapping her arms around him in a fierce hug as she began sobbing. “I know, I know,” he said, in low soothing tones. 

“Why does it have to be like that?” she gasped, between sobs.

“I don’t know,” he said. 

“It’s—not—fair!”

He rubbed his hand over her shoulder, hoping it somehow helped. She kept crying furiously, clinging to him like she was afraid to let go. Noctis hugged her back, deciding he’d stay here as long as he needed to. It was awkward, to be sure, but there was something vaguely comforting in knowing that Iris at least still trusted him. 

Eventually her sobs slowed, then came to a stop, though she was still sniffing. 

“It think that’s why he left, your brother,” said Noctis, as Iris finally let go of him. “When the others found out they were...angry. They wanted to find some way to save me.”

Iris’s brow creased into a deep frown. “Why _wouldn’t_ you want that? Aren’t they trying to help you?”

“Yes, but...” He could think of no good retort, not without revealing more than he should. “I’m just...worried about them. They left and I have no idea where they are. It’s...hard, on top of everything else.”

Iris nodded slowly. “I think I get it. But if I were in Gladdy’s place I’d definitely do the same thing.”

Noctis smiled at her, but the smile was strained. “I understand,” he said. 

Iris stared at him. “Do you?”

Were all teenage girls like this or did Iris just have some sort of eerie insight?

“I promise not to be too hard on him when he comes back.”

She beamed at him. 

“But I can’t exactly forgive him straight away. I’ve got a reputation to uphold and all of that.”

Iris pouted it a bit, but quickly let up. “Do you want to see the camp?”

The sun was very low in the sky now, and night would be coming on soon. It would be best go get an idea of where everything wad by daylight.

“Sure.”

* * *

Iris led him around the camp, pointing out the dining hall, the barracks and the hangar, where she told him they were keeping any vehicles they could get their hands on. Most of the structures built by the Nifs were still there, though some iron fencing had been torn down, and in it’s place, makeshift metal-sheet housing had sprung up, presumably to provide some shelter to the people staying there.

“So where do you fit into all of this?” asked Noctis as they circled back around to his hut. 

By this time, night had well and truly fallen, and the fort was lit from above by harsh white lights, presumably powered by Lestallum’s famous power plant. 

“Oh, you know, I do this and that,” said Iris, laughing, though her laugh sounded rather nervous.

“I’m surprised Cor let you tag along, to be honest. Usually he’s pretty strict about that sort of thing.”

“Well, not with me, I guess!”

Noctis looked at her. Her face was flushed, and she was avoiding looking him in the eyes. 

“How is it here in the compound?” he asked. “You got a lot to do?”

“Most of the time,” said Iris, but her facade was cracking as he asked more and more questions. 

“Seems kind of slow out here,” Noctis observed. “What do you do?” He smirked. “Bring people drinks?”

“I’m more important than that!” she cried, going bright red.

Noctis didn’t reply, staring her down. 

Eventually she gave a massive sigh, and slumped her shoulders. “Alright, you got me. They aren’t letting me do anything here. I came along with Cor because I thought being here might at least be more interesting than being stuck cooped up at Caem, but it’s not! I try to ask people what’s going on and they all shut me down. Whenever I try to convince Cor to talk to me all he does is brush me off and say he’s ‘busy’. And even when I try to watch them training to pick up some hints someone always finds me and takes me away! It’s so _annoying!”_

She stamped her foot as if to punctuate this statement, and for all it made her look even more childish, Noctis found he could relate sharply. For all he liked to try and be the sensible adult, sometimes a situation was just so frustrating that foot-stamping was the only appropriate reaction. 

“They’re keeping you away from everything, huh?” he said, deciding not to come down too hard on one side or another. He was sympathetic, but he still didn’t want to piss off Cor. 

“It’s not just that,” sighed Iris. “It’s as though they think I’m stupid. As though by keeping me away from this stuff they think one day I’ll just stop asking. I can see the sky too! I know the darkness is coming! I’ve even trained with Gladdy before—it’s not like I’m totally unprepared for any of this stuff happening.” She heaved a great sigh. “But they won’t listen to me. It’s like I’m some sort of annoying dog or something.”

“What do you _want_ to do?” asked Noctis. 

Iris shrugged. “I dunno. Help with the hunts maybe? I’m capable of fighting, y’know? Honestly, I’d be happy even if they just actually told me what’s going on. I know I’m _young_ , but I’m not a baby.”

“Want me to talk to Cor about it?”

She turned to him, eyes wide with amazement. “You’d do that?”

“Sure,” he said. “I see no reason you shouldn’t know what’s going on. I dunno about fighting—Cor probably doesn’t want you going out with the others because you’re...y’know, fifteen. But you’re more than old enough to know about the Starscourge and stuff.”

“That’s what I’ve been saying!” she cried, throwing her hands up. “Thanks Noct. I get the whole fighting thing, but I just want to be able to do something to help. I feel so useless just sitting here.”

“Well...” said Noctis, thinking on it as best he could. “Cor wouldn’t let you out with the others, but you could probably start training, if you wanted. I mean, Gladio was pretty young when he started training to be my bodyguard.”

Iris’s eyes were filled with hope, but her expression betrayed her doubtfulness. “Think Cor would let me?”

“He might, if I asked him.”

“Yes!” she said, pumping her fists. “That would be great! I mean, aside from anything else it’s not like I can just go back to being a student or anything is it? I want to be a hunter out here when I’m old enough. Then I can actually help keep people safe and stuff.”

Noctis smiled. “That sounds like a great idea.”

Iris began to march off towards the dining hall—he imagined it was almost time to eat, given the sun had set already. 

“Hey, Noct?” she said, hanging back a bit.

“What is it?” 

“Would you mind training me a bit after dinner?”

Noctis couldn’t conceal his surprise. “Me?”

“Yeah—you know how to fight and everything.”

“Well, yeah, but I’ve never tried to teach someone before.”

Iris sighed. “It’s just...I’m not sure I can convince Cor if you don’t say you’re set on it. He never listens to me.”

“So you want me to force him, basically?” Noctis couldn’t help but feel a little skeptical about how that would turn out. 

“Not _force,”_ Iris insisted. “It’s just...if you’d already taught me some stuff it might be easier to convince him.”

Noctis sighed. “Alright. I can help.”

Iris grinned, then went marching towards the dining hall again. Noctis wasn’t sure what exactly he was getting himself into by complying with her request, but it would at least give him something to do. Keep him from lingering on thoughts of the others abandoning him. Besides, it would be good for Iris to be prepared. If she was going to stick with Cor, and he was coming to Tenebrae...she’d need to know how to defend herself.

* * *

“You ready?” He tossed one of the camp’s wooden training blades into the air. Iris was standing with one of her own, waiting for him.

“Bring it!” she yelled, and Noctis immediately went running towards her.

They’d agreed not to use magic in the spar, for warping or anything else. Which was convenient as Noctis was in no position to use it anyway. 

As it turned out, Iris already knew a thing or two about blocking blows, easily able to deflect the long, obvious strikes that Noctis was using against her. 

“Come on, Noct!” she called, ducking out of the way of his sword. “Why are you going so slow?”

“Just trying to give you a chance!” he taunted, ducking around her and trying to strike from behind. 

She caught the blow, but only just.

Gladio had probably taught her most of the basic moves Noctis was trying out. But if she wanted a bit more challenge he was happy to provide it. 

He began moving a bit faster, tapping into the energy he’d usually reserve for warping, and instead exerting keen control over his speed, striking harder, and more often. Now Iris was beginning to struggle—her blocks getting later, and her footing more unstable. Noctis didn’t relent though. As Gladio had always said: failure was the greatest teacher. 

Finally, he landed a hit which knocked her clean off her feet, but fortunately the ground in the training area was padded. 

“You okay?” he asked, jogging over to her. 

She was already sitting upright again. “Ugh. Yeah, just about. Jeez, don’t go easy on me, Noct.”

He chuckled and pulled her to her feet. “Hey, you said you wanted more challenge.”

Iris sighed. “I guess. You’re really a whiz with that thing you know. I thought the balance might throw you off or something.”

Noctis swung the wooden sword back and forth. “I guess. They make swords pretty light these days to be honest with you.”

“Was I super bad?” asked Iris. She looked a bit downcast.

“No, not at all!” said Noctis. “You managed to block practically everything at the beginning.”

“You were going really slow though.”

Noctis shrugged. “Not all daemons are fast, you know. Bigger ones tend to be a lot slower.”

“Really?” Her expression was doubtful.

“You’re speaking to the expert, aren’t you?” said Noctis, holding out his hands playfully. 

She gave a half-hearted grin. “I guess. I suppose I’ve got a lot more training to do, huh?”

“Hey,” said Noctis, becoming serious, “it took years for me to get this good. Same for Gladio. Considering how little training you’ve had until now, you’re doing really well.”

The grin was genuine this time. “Thanks, Noct. Hey, maybe by the time I’m eighteen I’ll be good enough to actually join those hunters?”

“Like I said, I think it’s a great idea that you want to help people like that. And you definitely have talent.”

“Well, that’s just the Amicitia blood for you!” she said, giggling. “We’re born and bred to be bodyguards!”

Noctis grinned. “Maybe you could take up work guarding Luna when you’re older. I don’t think she has anyone at the moment.”

Iris snorted. “Pretty sure Ravus has that sorted.”

“Oh, I dunno. He’s a busy man, you know. He can’t be by her side all day.”

“Huh,” said Iris, biting her lip. 

“It’s getting late,” said Noctis, gesturing to the perilously black sky. “I’ll see you tomorrow morning, Iris.”

Iris jumped, as though she’d only just remembered the time. “Right! See you, Noct. And thanks for the training session!”

She began jogging away, presumably to her own quarters, leaving him to return to his.

Now it was getting towards curfew there were fewer bright lights overhead than before, but Noctis was able to find his way back easily enough. The ramshackle old hut was small and badly heated, but as he lay down in the squeaky bed in the corner, he felt somehow much less alone than before. A stab of guilt passed through him at the thought, but the others were far out of his reach now, wherever they were. Going out alone, in pursuit of some dream... There were plenty of things he would have said if he knew where they were, but as it was...

He just hoped they were safe. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whew—kind of a breather chapter here for us to get our breath before we return to the bros and the stakes start ramping themselves up again. And Iris gets some much-needed screen-time again! 
> 
> Thank you so much to everyone still reading, and I hope you enjoyed this chapter. If so, please let me know!


	22. Three Trials

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Previously: Noctis admits to Iris that he will need to die to save the world and spends some time bonding with her at Fort Vaullerey.

Whatever the hell that thing was that had lured them into this cave, one thing was for sure: Gladio hated it. There was no sign of any sort of ending to the endless tunnel, and Gladio was beginning to think that the thing had only gotten them in there in an attempt to lure them to their deaths. 

Ice clung to the walls and floor, making the ground uneven and slippery. And that was the last thing he needed, because the damned place was full of daemons. 

In the shadows, creeping, waiting, there were always more daemons. 

His sword was beginning to slip from his grip, his hands were so sweaty from the fighting, and his heart kept up a dull, low thudding rhythm that Gladio was sure must be audible to the damned creatures. 

He was shaking. But he had to keep moving. 

If he could just see the end of the cave—some indication it might soon cease—then he’d be alright. But the tunnel seemed to stretch out endlessly. If this were purely his own idea he’d have given it up as a bad job long ago. But it wasn’t, so he couldn’t.

All of this was for Noct.

Would he even be grateful to them for doing this? The more cynical part of him said no: he wouldn’t. Goodness knows he’d told them enough times that he was intent on dying. Trying to make him see sense was like repeatedly slamming your head into a brick wall, and frankly, Gladio had had enough of it. If Noct wanted to die then he could damn well go ahead and die. Gladio might have been raised to protect him, but he wasn’t a fool. If Noct was really intent on offing himself then nothing short of a straightjacket would stop him. And he wouldn’t stand for that. 

No, to be honest, the main reason he was still inching through these damned caves at a snail’s pace was for Ignis. That was the only reason he was putting in so much effort. It was obvious that until he found a solution or was proven wrong by the Gods themselves, Ignis wasn’t giving up on the idea of saving Noct. Those two really were peas in a pod sometimes, given how stubborn they were.

If he went back, jeopardised the mission just for the sake of getting some rest, Ignis would never forgive him. And he couldn’t have that.

So here he was, slicing through yet another daemon skull. 

He hoped that wherever they were, the other two were having an easier time of it.

* * *

Prompto wouldn’t necessarily call himself claustrophobic. 

Sure he didn’t particularly like dark, enclosed spaces, but they wouldn’t send him into a meltdown. Most of the time, that was. 

The darkness in these caves seemed to have a unique property to it that brought all his worst anxieties to life. From the many holes in the walls seemed to come whispers, voices telling him how pointless it all was. 

Would this really help Noct? If it would, how would he know? Was _he_ even up to this? Who did he think he was, coming marching all this way as if he was somehow equal to the two people who had literally sworn their lives to saving him? Presumptuous. Arrogant. Superfluous.

They came in soft, hissing tones, the chilly draughts through the walls enough to freeze him solid. The rocks crumbled and shifted beneath his feet, giving the impression of an ever-moving, ever-shifting floor. He got the feeling that if he placed even one foot wrong, he’d go sliding back to the beginning of the tunnel, and have to march all the way up again.

His sole comfort was that there were no daemons. Which really wasn’t much of a comfort at all, as that would at least give him something to focus on other than the thoughts. The voices. 

That wasn’t the only problem either. 

Every now and then, through the walls, he’d hear a soft, snaking, shifting sound, as if something were crawling through the tunnel alongside him. Every time he looked there was nothing to be seen, but he found himself constantly watching the holes in the walls, looking, waiting for something to come racing through to tear him to pieces.

And he was sure it was merely his over-active imagination when he saw it the first time. It was harder to convince himself on the third and fourth, but he still tried. For every now and then he thought he saw a large yellow eye in one of the holes. Watching him. 

That couldn’t be right. If there was a daemon in here somewhere it would have tried to maul him long ago. 

Or at least, that was the thought he clung to, as he kept walking through the passage.

* * *

Ignis was beginning to wonder if following a strange voice into a dark, mysterious cave had really been the best idea. 

The path he’d chosen to walk down was littered with loose stones, making him lose his footing every few metres. From the ceiling hung many large, sharp icicles, presumably made by the cold, that, with each wrong step, seemed to come closer and closer to falling and impaling him. 

He was strongly considering resorting to crawling, as undignified as that would be, just to avoid falling over again. 

After what must have been a few hours of stumbling though, he managed to somehow make it up onto a large stone plateau. The icicles still hung overhead, but the risk of them falling seemed greatly reduced now he was up on solid ground again. There was only one problem. The plateau didn’t seem to lead anywhere—except into a solid stone wall. Had he still had Noct’s magic at his disposal he might have been able to do something about it, but as it was there was no getting through that solid mass. 

He gazed down at the crumbling passageway he’d just made his way up. Had he made a wrong turn somewhere? He hadn’t seen any on his way up—but perhaps that was by design. Or maybe he was missing something up here?

He turned around to face the wall again, and as he stepped closer he spotted something he _had_ missed before. 

A small hole, in the bottom of the wall. Big enough for him to squeeze through, if he crawled. 

This must be his way out.

Getting down on his hands and knees (this really was very undignified) and adjusting his glasses so they didn’t fall off as he crawled, he managed to very slowly, very carefully squeeze his way through. 

As he made it through to the other side and clambered to his feet, it quickly became clear that whatever this place was, there was definitely some magical aspect to it.

He was in a large, cavernous room, and on each wall were hundreds and hundreds of crystals. Small and large, cracked and clear, and snaking between them were the glowing veins of rock he’d seen leading into the entrance of the cave, which were now so bright their light reflected off each crystal over and over again, like some huge, natural hall of mirrors. 

The crystals were so clear in places he could see his own reflection as he walked by, his face staring back at him from a hundred different angles. It was deeply unnerving.

He needed to try and find a way out of this strange place as quickly as possible.

He began to move through the crystal cave with a purpose, looking for any holes or openings that might be an exit, but could see none. The strange shapes and odd light produced by all the reflective crystals didn’t help any. There were pockets of darkness and light that made it hard to tell if you were even going anywhere, and several times Ignis found himself almost walking into a wall. 

The further he moved into the cave, however, the stranger it got. 

Every now and then he was sure he saw something moving in the crystals’ reflection, only to see himself and be confused. But it began to happen more and more often, until he couldn’t quite write it off as a strange trick of the eyes. There was something in here. He was sure of it.

He rounded another corner, and this time he saw definite movement in the plane of crystal up ahead. And sure enough, even as he froze in place, watching carefully, the image in the crystal kept moving. He looked around for whatever it was in the cave, but from every angle everything seemed to be still.

Strange. 

He moved a little closer to the crystal, hoping that if he saw whatever it was more clearly he might be able to guess at the creature’s identity. 

But now he looked properly, the image in the crystal didn’t seem to be the cave at all. It was dark, and a little difficult to perceive, but Ignis thought he could just about make out the darkened outline of a cracked stone wall, and the night sky outside. There was something oddly familiar about the image.

Then he saw what had been moving within, and he knew why he recognised the place. 

There he was: Noct, his hair longer than usual—though it had slowly been growing out over the course of their journey anyway. It couldn’t be long now. He sat down in the throne with a sense of dreadful purpose. Ignis knew what came next, but couldn’t bring himself to look away. Like watching a train come flying loose from it’s rails as it goes careening off the track, he found his eyes fixed on the image in the crystal. Every last detail remained the same. Noct’s grim stoicism, the uncaring visage of his father, the final blow… All of it was outlined with such exacting clarity that Ignis felt there was something supernatural about the vision. Like there was something fixed about it. Something certain.

He stayed there and the vision replayed, just the same as before. Tears were welling up in Ignis’s eyes, blurring the quality of the image, but he kept staring, kept watching, even as he felt he wanted to turn his organs inside out.

He wasn’t sure how long he stood there, watching. It was as though the world outside meant nothing. It all fell away to this—this image of his worst fears—his deepest nightmares brought to life. His legs were going numb. His fingers cramped as they remained fixed in place around the edges of the crystal, his vision blurred by tears.

It could have been hours. But finally, something got through, emerging out of the misery. 

He was here to stop this. He could still stop this. If he only got through this cave, passed the challenge set before him.

His heart leapt in his chest, and he pushed himself away from the vision, horrified. This had been part of the test—he’d almost gotten stuck here, wasting away as he became trapped in his own hopelessness. He couldn’t let that happen again. He had to focus on his true goal—the only reason any of them were here in the first place. He had to save Noct.

He tore his eyes from the crystals on the walls, which he now realised were all showing that very vision he’d gotten sucked into, and redoubled his search for an exit. There had to be something around here somewhere—the cave was large, but it only led one way, and Ignis was fairly sure he hadn’t gotten turned around. 

He ran his fingers over the walls, trying to obscure the visions that kept leaping out at him, instead focusing on any patch of darkness that might look like an exit. 

He got fooled a couple more times by the night sky in the visions—so dark and empty it almost looked like a passage when reflected in the larger crystals. But then he found it. 

It was very narrow—and between two crystals not quite evenly embedded in the wall, which made it impossible to see from a certain angle, and indeed, it took some dodging around to confirm it was there at all. But it was. He’d found his exit.

It really was a crack more than a passageway, much like the entrance to the crystal cave, it wasn’t at all obvious at first glance. But it was just big enough for him to squeeze through, and then, finally he was on the other side.

A large cavern spread out before him—not as big as the crystal cave, but still quite large. And there, in the centre, a raised platform emitted a familiar blue light. A haven. At last. 

* * *

It couldn’t be much further to the end, surely? He’d been walking for so long now...

The tunnel was getting narrower and narrower the longer Gladio walked. Perhaps it was optimistic to think that might be a sign his journey would soon be at an end, but he had to cling to _something..._

To think he might come through this somehow. 

He hoped Iris was still okay out there. He hadn’t had time to call her what with everything going on. He was willing to bet there was no phone signal down here either. Damn it.

The veins of glowing crystal were growing thinner and thinner too, leaving most of the tunnel in darkness the further in he went. All converged to a path just ahead of him.

Was that...an opening? Over at the end there?

He rushed towards it, desperate for some sign that he really could go on. 

Then he was in a large room, and at the centre was...a person? They were small, and as he approached their form became clearer. A girl, standing in the centre of the room, face turned away. But he thought he recognised her... Wait. Those clothes...

“Iris?” 

She turned around, and he caught only the briefest glimpse of her face before _they_ came. 

Rushing out of holes in the walls, thundering like beings possessed, hundreds of daemons exploded out, running towards them.

Gladio was at Iris’s side in a second, but the tide of daemons pulled him back, away from her. He tried to fight, bringing his sword down on them again and again, but the more he fought the more seemed to appear, reaching through cracks, pouring from the ceiling. And she was lost somewhere in the middle.

Soon he stopped trying to kill them at all, just trying to reach her. Through the shrieks and cries of the daemons, a terrible scream hit the air, and a rending, grinding, squelching noise as Iris disappeared from view. Gladio was screaming now too, but it was all so loud, so overwhelming he could barely hear himself—and then it was the only sound he heard, the monstrous din disappearing all at once.

He was tumbling to the ground—his arms collided with the dusty floor, and he rolled instinctively onto his back, trying to see where all the daemons had gone. 

There was nothing there. Nothing but the ceiling, high above him. 

_Oh noble retainer..._

It was the voice from before. 

_It took great strength and courage to come this far, but now a harsher choice awaits him._

Gladio hefted himself upright, trying to look around for the source of the voice, but the cavern was as empty as before. 

_To gain the power to free his King, the retainer must leave all thoughts of the present world behind. None shall matter but the King—even his life shall be forfeit. Does the retainer agree to this?_

His life? What did that mean? And where was Iris? Was any of that real—how could it be faked? 

_Retainer._

The voice has become harsher, more insistent. It wanted him to answer. How could he? This was all so confusing... What had it said before? His life would be forfeit to save Noct? A sardonic laugh bubbled to his lips—he wasn’t sure what was going on, but he’d had that feeling ever since he’d entered this strange, cursed place. Was that all it would take? His life? 

“I’ll do it,” he muttered, stumbling to his feet. 

_The choice has been made._

As soon as the voice finished speaking, there was an immense rumbling, grinding side from the far side of the cave, and as Gladio looked the solid stone wall crumbled in on itself, leaving a large hole—big enough for a person to get through.

_Enter, oh brave retainer, and rejoin the other petitioners. The final task awaits._

There was more after this? He didn’t like the sound of that...but somehow he doubted he had much choice in the matter. 

* * *

After what felt like hours of walking, Prompto had finally found the end of the tunnel. He didn’t even stop to check what might be on the other side before racing through—if there was anything in there it couldn’t be any worse than the web-like maze he’d just been trapped in.

He emerged into a large cavern, which suited him much better than the long, narrow corridors. There was only one drawback he could see, and that was that it was darker than the tunnels. There the crystal veins had been close, and their light was more than enough to see by, even if it was a bit dim. Here, though, they extended into the high ceiling, barely casting enough light to illuminate the full size of the room below. 

And that was bad, because while he’d only had a suspicion while in the caves, here he was quite sure: there was something else in the room with him. 

He heard it before he saw it, it’s movement amplified by the large structure of the cave, the soft hissing noise it made bouncing off the walls and echoing back at him. He closed his hand around his gun. He might be nervous, but he wasn’t stupid.

Louder and louder it got, until Prompto was tempted to go stumbling back into the darkness of the tunnels, but before he could move, it was there. 

Rising out of the darkness, a huge shadow lifted from the floor, obscuring the dim light from the crystals above him. It’s body was long, and reminded him terribly of a snake. But it couldn’t just be some massive snake—it’s head was too large, and mere seconds after he thought this, something even worse began to happen.

“Feed...”

A horrible, hissing, halting voice trembled out from the creature’s head. Prompto was vividly reminded of what Noct had told them about the daemons—that they’d all once been human. Was this thing remembering something? Had it once been a person?

“Feed...me...” it whispered.

“I, um, don’t have any food,” said Prompto, horribly aware of how his voice was cracking even as he spoke.

“You will be...consumed...” the thing muttered.

Well, that seemed to put an end to negotiations. 

Sure enough, the next second the thing came crashing to the floor, and Prompto only just managed to roll away to avoid getting crushed. It lunged at him, long, sharp teeth glinting in the dim light from above. He dodged again, but the dreadful stench of rotting meat filled his nostrils, and the rush of air just next to his face told him it had been a near miss. 

Panting, he kept moving from foot to foot, looking for the creature slithering around in the darkness. For the silvery hint of scales...

Then he saw it—something moving in the corner of the room, and with a quick _bang_ he heard a yelp which meant the creature had surely been hit. Okay, so it wasn’t resistant to bullets. That was something, at least.

It was fast though—and this time as it came exploding out of the darkness, its tail caught him clean across the shoulder, making him gasp with shock as he was sent flying to the ground. He quickly rolled over, and managed to get in some clean shots to it’s side, making it howl and whine in pain.

Prompto happened to be feeling much the same, and he was sure that impact had broken one of his ribs, but he couldn’t afford to stop moving now. The thing was still lurking in the darkness, waiting for him to slip up. If only he had night vision or something...

There it was again—hissing...

_Bang!_

A dreadful screech tore the air, and Prompto assumed that meant he’d hit something vital this time. Now if he could only stop it doing the same to him...

He ducked instinctively as he felt the air shifting in the room, and the next second the creature was soaring over him, blood dripping onto him from the its torn flesh. 

This was his chance.

He span around, quickly enough to see it colliding with the ground. He had a clear line of sight to its head—he aimed and then—

With a final, horrifying shriek, the thing collapsed to the ground, then dissolved into tiny particles of miasma.

Prompto’s heart raced so fast in his chest he was sure it would make him throw up, and his legs were trembling so badly they seemed mere seconds from collapsing out from under him. 

But he wasn’t done yet. 

Over in the corner of the room, where before there had been solid wall, a doorway had appeared. He was sure the others were waiting on the other side. He just had to...go through it. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What's this? Finally back to the action? Those were some nasty trials, huh? Gladio's definitely proving the hardest to convince, but when you can whip up visions of his little sister dying like that, persuasion isn't so much of an issue. 
> 
> Thank you so much for reading and I hope you enjoyed this chapter! If so please let me know!


	23. The Dream

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Previously: Gladio, Prompto and Ignis proceed through the frozen cave, each facing different challenges before they reach the central room.

Thick fog blanketed Duscae, so thick Noctis could only see a few meters ahead of him, the dark trunks of the trees fading into grey nothingness just ahead. The cold stung his cheeks, and he shivered as he stumbled through the trees, his foot sometimes catching on a root—almost tipping him over, but not quite. He pulled his hood tighter over his head in a vain attempt to stay warm. He needed to keep moving forward.

There was something waiting for him on the other side of the trees, he knew it. 

The wind whispered through the branches, and the leaves rustling overhead sounded almost like a voice, pulling him forward, guiding him through the forest. He could hear it just ahead of him, moving back into the fog. He kept walking. 

He was vaguely aware he ought to be tired, but he was not. The cold didn’t seem to matter, nor the ache in his legs as he kept pushing forward through the trees, his breath creating small clouds in the air as the temperate dropped even further. Something soft and wet fell against his face. Blinking, he stared up at the sky. Yes, he’d been right—small white flakes were floating down towards him. It was snowing. 

She was here. 

“Noctis...” 

He whirled around. A voice—but there was no one there. Had he imagined it? 

“Noctis...” 

It was so quiet amid the rustling and the muffling effect of the falling snow that he barely heard it, but he was sure that was someone calling for him, through the fog. 

“Follow...”

He didn’t know why, but he did. He felt he trusted the voice—he knew it somehow, recognised it from somewhere. The snow was falling faster now, freezing his face as the flakes blew into his face. 

“Hurry.”

He began to run. The black trunks passed by in a blur, and Noctis kept running, the ground shifting and falling away below him. 

“Hurry!” 

He was going as fast as he could, almost flying as the world bent and warped around him. He was sure the snow was trying to choke him, stop him, drown out the voice urging him on, but he wouldn’t let it. He was stronger than this. He needed to follow the voice, to find her. He knew her...

Then, all at once he was free of the trees, the world expanding out into a vast blank canvas of grey fog. Then his foot caught on something, and he was flying forward so fast he barely knew where he was. His head didn’t hit the ground—was he flying? Falling? Where—sharp pain through his feet as they hit the ground, hard, throwing him off-balance, tipping him forward—he landed sharply on his arms—he was on a slope now, he could feel it. Down and down he went, gravity pulling him faster and faster as he rolled down the hill, snow sticking to his clothes, beginning to soak through to his skin. 

Finally, it all came to a stop.

For a moment he simply lay on the floor, gasping at the pain in his hands and knees, the shocking cold of the snow, the sheer misery of it all. He was incredibly dizzy. 

“Please...get up...” 

The voice was still there, and even through the pain he knew he had to follow it. It warmed something inside him, and in seconds he was back on his feet, looking around for where it had come from. The fog was beginning to dissipate, and he could see he was in a field, though jagged rocks were rising through the earth on all sides, shattering the flat plain with their fierce edges. 

“Almost there...” the voice whispered. “Follow me...”

It was coming from his right, and as he turned he saw a great ridge of rock, rising into the air. 

“You must climb...” it said. 

He wasn’t sure he was in any state for climbing, but he was equally sure he must do it. He couldn’t afford to stand around here in the cold—besides, there was something waiting for him beyond. Something he had to see. 

He began to walk towards the ridge, each step a little harder as the snow beat down relentlessly, forcing him to drag his feet when he wanted nothing more than to run. It was so cold... But he could see the ridge ahead of him. His destination. He must reach it. Failure was not an option here. 

Hissing filled the air—whether from the wind or something else he didn’t know, but he ignored it, forcing himself to keep going, step by slow, aching step.

He was at the bottom now, staring up at the sheer stone wall. Climb? How could he climb this? The wall was slick, unclimbable. 

“I know you can succeed,” said the voice. Yes, he definitely recognised it. It was as if from something distant, something like a dream. “You must keep trying, Noctis.”

It was right. He couldn’t stop here. 

He placed one shaking, gloved hand against the wall. He curled his fingers and...wait. There was a ledge here? Yes, almost the perfect size for his hand, a dent in the rock. He reached out his other hand, a little higher, feeling around for another—yes, there it was! Maybe he really could do this...

Reaching for all the strength he still had within him, he pushed himself upwards with his arms, ignoring the way pain went streaking down his sides at the movement. His foot caught on another ledge—he was safe on the wall. He could do this. He reached for another handhold—yes, again. He kept climbing, even as his body screeched under the pressure, even as the snow got so thick he could barely see the wall in front of him. He would _not_ be beaten.

His breaths were coming shorter and faster now, another handhold, then another. Keep moving. Keep fighting. He was almost there—so close now he could almost taste it. The wind was howling in his ears like a wild beast screaming in rage. Then...then he cleared the top of the wall. 

Below him there was no snow, and no fog, and no wind. 

Below him was a crater, and deep within its centre lay a beast, its chest slowly rising and falling, the meteor which had once held it down vanished completely. Titan looked almost peaceful, lying there in the dusk, his outline shining in the twilight. Noctis took a deep, shuddering breath of cold air, falling onto the ledge just in front of him, his legs finally giving out. He was safe. He’d reached Titan in time. 

Then the wailing he’d thought was the wind shifted. It’s pitch got higher—louder, as though it was coming towards them. The cold suddenly abated, leaving Noctis shivering in the relative warmth. What—

A massive creature came flying from overhead, screaming, her voice now loud and clear and focused as the snow fell away to reveal her in all her glory. Leviathan was here, and she was furious. 

She dove towards Titan with a blind, animal rage, and he, still unconscious, didn’t move a muscle. Noctis began to move, to open his mouth, to scream to warn him, but as he did the cold came back with a vengeance—stealing his voice—stealing his very limbs. 

“Hush,” said a much colder, much sharper voice than the one that had guided him here. “You’re too late.”

Noctis watched as Leviathan bent her body back, about to strike Titan’s neck—if she got him then it would all be over—

“Noctis!” The voice. “You still have time!”

Leviathan struck. 

* * *

A scream tore itself from his throat as he sat bolt upright, but he was not yet truly awake. The field of flowers from the world between the worlds surrounded him. Layer upon layer of dreams—would he ever be able to wake up? 

“Hello?” he called, stumbling to his feet. “What happened?” he asked the air. “What _was_ that?”

“A mix of future and past, brought to life by the King’s subconscious.” Gentiana stood there, cool and pristine as ever. 

“So that was the future?”

“It will be, if the King does not act.”

“How did I see it?”

Gentiana smiled. “Every now and then the Messenger catches a glimpse of her former mistress’s thoughts. She thought it prudent to inform the King of what she saw on this occasion.”

“If Shiva kills him—it’ll all be over?”

Gentiana’s expression grew grim. “For the Archaean, yes. He is a being bound to recognise strength and naught else—even if he wished to assist you, at that point he could not.”

“So I have to go to him.” Noctis began pacing impatiently. “Then why am I still here? I need to go there—to find him.”

“A moment, King of Light,” said Gentiana, raising her hand. “All is not as it seems. Titan is in grave danger, but the Glacian is cunning. He is not the only target she has acquired.”

Noctis’s blood ran cold. “Why? What else is she doing?”

“The Messenger cannot say. The Glacian’s thoughts on this matter are highly obscured, and her ability to read them grows ever weaker as the strength of Eos wanes.”

That didn’t sound good. “Eos is sick?”

“The Starscourge greatly weakens Her,” said Gentiana, looking tireder than Noctis had ever seen her before. “But at present, the Glacian poses a much greater threat. The Messenger finds it likely that while the Hydraean will conquer the Archaean, the Glacian has other plans in mind. The King must not rest once he is done with the Archaean. There is much left to do.”

“Okay,” sighed Noctis. 

He only hoped that whatever plans Shiva had they weren’t too severe. Though knowing her...

“Go swiftly, King of Light,” said Gentiana, as the clouds darkened. “There is not much time.”

* * *

It was still dark behind the curtains when Noctis woke. In seconds he leapt from the bed, pulled on his shoes, and sprinted out of the door. 

It was then the enormity of what he had to do crashed down on him. The Disc of Cauthess was miles away—without some form of transport he’d never get there in time. He needed to find a car. Where had Iris said they kept the military vehicles? He couldn’t remember.

He had no idea what time it was, and was loathe to wake up Cor at any time, but this was desperate. He went running for the front edge of the Fort, where he knew Cor’s office was, hoping his sleeping quarters wouldn’t be far away. 

He rushed up to the shack he called and office, and decided to check there first—just in case Cor had decided to wake very early. 

He exploded through the tiny door, making Cor jolt upright and reach for the gun on his table.

“No, no—it’s me!” said Noctis, flinging his hands up.

Cor snorted and flung his gun back down. “Haven’t you heard of knocking?”

“No time for that,” said Noctis, panting. “I need a car—or a truck—anything that can drive me somewhere fast.”

“Why on earth do you need that?” asked Cor, raising his eyebrows. 

“It’s important,” said Noctis, still buzzing with energy. “Titan’s about to be attacked.”

Cor stared at him skeptically. 

“It’s true, I swear,” Noctis insisted. “Gentiana showed it to me—in a vision. If Bahamut gets Titan on his side now we’ll only have a few weeks before he can crush us. I have to stop him.”

Cor’s unbelieving expression morphed into a frown. “Can you do this, Noctis? Not that I doubt your abilities, but one man against a God—”

“I can!” he cried, then shook himself, trying to get some sense back. “I mean, I still have my magic—kind of. It’ll hurt, but if I can make it explode, if I can do it near Leviathan—”

“Did you not tell me mere hours ago that the last time you tried that it caused the deaths of many civilians in Altissia?” Cor had a hard look in his eyes now.

“Yes,” said Noctis. “But no one else will be there—it’ll just be me and Titan. I can do this. Cor, please. It’s our only chance.”

Cor scowled, clearly reluctant to make the judgement call Noctis was looking for. 

“Fine,” he snapped, and Noctis couldn’t help but laugh with relief. “But take this.” Cor tossed him a pair of keys. “Those are for the jeep—it’s the fastest thing we have under the circumstances, and I’m sending men after you just in case we have another rampaging God on our hands.”

“Understood,” said Noctis. “Thank you.”

Cor just nodded curtly, and Noctis went running for the warehouse where they were keeping the vehicles. 

It didn’t take long to find the jeep—it was near the exit, and the only vehicle that looked remotely well-looked after in the place. Noctis supposed they weren’t exactly expecting to be deployed any time soon. 

He quickly hopped into the drivers seat and turned the ignition. The engine turned, and he was ready to go. 

Then he was out on the road, speeding down the highway as the sun began to rise far in the distance, a dim grey light just beginning to cloak the land in cold, muted colours. It was freezing, and Noctis had only his thin jacket as protection, but he found he didn’t care. He needed to get to Titan as quickly as possible. 

He was probably driving a bit too recklessly—dodging around cars, going perhaps ten miles an hour over the legal speed limit—but that didn’t matter. He had a God to deal with. 

The tall ridge surrounding the Disc of Cauthess rose high into the sky. There was no sign of either Leviathan or Titan. Good. He still had a chance. 

The he was streaking down the road down towards the centre of the Disc—there were no cars here, just the long, twisting, turning road. It was getting colder though. 

The huge iron gates that blocked off the Imperial Compound within the Disc rose before him, their impressive bulk impassable, even to Noctis’s eyes. He’d need to find another way in. Hadn’t he already been given a hint as to what he had to do? In his dream there was a sheer cliff-face that wasn’t so sheer at all. He had to find it. 

He jumped out of the jeep and began running. The Disc was huge, and it took him far too long to circle around to the angle he remembered in his dreams. But sure enough, there was the wall he’d seen before. Forbidding grey rock rising high above him. But he’d climbed this in the midst of a snowstorm, and he could damn well do it now. 

He found the first handhold, fingers gripping the rock so tightly he thought they might bleed as he hauled himself up. It was all just as he remembered it. One handhold, then another. His feet slid along the rock as he struggled to find purchase, but he couldn’t stop now. He pulled himself relentlessly upwards. The grey light of dawn was beginning to become obscured by dangerously dark clouds swirling above him. The storm was coming. She was coming. 

He kept going, higher and higher. With each ragged breath he told himself it was only a little further... 

Then he was there. 

Ice cold wind blasted against him with such force that for a moment he thought he must fall over, but then he found his footing again, and finally, finally, he could see into the crater below. 

Dim against the light lancing down from above, almost impossible to see if you weren’t looking for it, a golden outline revealed Titan’s sleeping form, hunched in the crater far below. Some of the desperate tension leaked out of his shoulders. Titan was still there, still sleeping—he’d gotten there in time. 

So what now? How to stop Leviathan from coming? How to save Titan? If he tried to fight Leviathan alone there was still a chance that Titan would be caught in the crossfire. Could Noctis just order him back underground? 

The wind was blowing ever more fiercely. 

One thing was for certain—he needed to warn Titan. Now. 

He jogged over to the edge of the crater. It was a sheer drop into the centre from here—one he couldn’t possibly survive without warping. Oh well. Chances were he was going to need his sword soon enough anyway. He drew it from the Armiger, sending a tight, stinging sensation all the way down his arm. 

The next second he was flying through the air, moving faster than light itself as he plummeted to where his sword had embedded itself in the rock. Then he was there—still a little way above Titan, but close enough to try and speak. It seemed, however, than Titan had already recognised his presence. 

A huge, bloodshot eye was staring up at him from Titan’s rock-hewn face. There was a supernatural light to it—a purple, shifting light, not dissimilar to the one Noctis sometimes knew lit his own eyes when he summoned the Gods. What did it mean?

There was now just a short drop for him to become level with Titan. Noctis slid down the slope, almost falling over in the process, but managing to stay on his feet as he finally hit level ground. Titan’s massive form loomed above him, intimidating, but unmoving. Titan was still watching him, his violet eyes seeming to burn a hole right down to Noctis’s very soul. How to communicate with him?

Then he heard it. 

_King of Light._

Titan wasn’t actually speaking, his mouth unmoving as the words echoed around Noctis’s head, but he knew they were from Titan, all the same. 

_This world lies in great peril. The Archeaen’s strength has been sapped from him as the great Eos weakens, tormented both by the Accursed and the Archeaen’s own brethren. He has a question._

“What is it?” Noctis asked aloud, hoping Titan would understand.

_Will the King stop this?_

Well, fortunately, that wasn’t a hard one. 

“I will do everything in my power to free Eos both from the darkness made by the Accursed, and the chaos being made by Bahamut,” he said, bowing slightly in acknowledgement. “I give you my word.” 

_Good._

The word carried some greater weight to it Noctis couldn’t quite define, but he felt it reverberating through him, like the words in his head. 

_Soon the Archeaen’s kin, the Glacian and the Hydreaen will be here. They seek to battle him, sever his loyalty to the King._

“I know,” said Noctis, remembering the merciless snow, Leviathan’s roar. “I don’t know if I can stop them.”

_The oath is weak, forged as it was under false pretences, that the King lacked the power now burning through his veins. It is not impossible that a new promise could be made._

“You mean...”

_If the King does battle with the Archeaen, for the purpose he just proclaimed to the heavens, the Archeaen will not be broken by the Glacian or the Hydreaen. He may die, but he will not bend._

“I see,” said Noctis, now trembling as the full weight of it settled on him. “You want me to kill you then.”

_The fight will not be easy. The Archeaen must resist with all his strength if a true bond is to be forged._

“I’ll do it,” said Noctis. “If it means freeing you—freeing us, then I’ll do it. However difficult it may be.”

There was a great shuddering from the crater, and Noctis half-thought Titan was laughing. If Gods could laugh, that was.

Then the earth began rumbling again, but not with laugher this time. Titan was getting ready. They were going to have to fight.

Noctis just had time to grab his sword before the rock beneath him crumbled completely, and he was left to go flying towards the earth, his heart pounding wildly in his chest. 

He landed with a _thud_ —but managed to remain on his feet, even as pain went juddering up them.

Titan had risen before him, no longer half-visible in the growing light but solid and terrifyingly real. And he’d have no distraction in the form of the others either. He’d have to rely on his own strength alone. 

Titan would have learnt from before his trick with the ice, and even as Noctis looked he saw Titan reaching for a great boulder near the top of the crater. Was he really going to hurl that thing at him? He couldn’t deflect that! He had no choice but to run. 

But the crater was so small with Titan lumbering about in it that there was nowhere _to_ run, not without giving him the opportunity to just stomp on him and be done with it. He might not die permanently as a result, but he’d definitely lose Titan’s allegiance. But wait...perhaps there _was_ a way he could work this? 

He sprinted over to what he thought was Titan’s leg, even as the boulder collided with the earth behind him, sending chunks of rock flying through the air, and began looking for the largest crack he could find. There—just a little to the right—he flung himself at it, lining up his sword as best he could and—yes! He’d managed to lodge it in Titan’s thigh, something confirmed by the grunt of pain he heard from somewhere high above. 

Last time he’d used a combination of magic and sword-work to bring Titan down. This time he was going to have to rely on sword-work for his own safety. He flipped himself up so he was balancing on top of the sword, the blade strong beneath his feet, his hand clawed into one of the larger cracks running up Titan’s leg. He needed to get higher. If he could just reach Titan’s head...

The screeching sound of rock-on-rock above him signalled to Noctis that now was perhaps not the time to stop and think about things. 

He looked above, searching for another large crack. It wasn’t long before he found one—and then came the riskiest move he’d have to make all day. In one fluid motion, he removed the sword from below him, jammed it in a little higher and swung himself up onto it. His shoulder roared in response, and Noctis had to close his eyes for a moment as the pain faded. He really hoped that didn’t mean he’d re-opened his wound. 

Trying to do this with just one weapon was risky, but now he was actually on Titan he couldn’t risk losing his balance by trying to conjure another implement from the Amiger. There was a ledge not far above him. If he could just reach it...

There was a roar as the rock of Titan’s leg shifted beneath him, and a large stone hand was extending towards him. He was going to try and shake him off! No—he couldn’t let the hand get him—

With renewed energy, he grabbed hold of a crack not far above him, and began flinging himself upwards with desperation, trying to stay out of the grasp of Titan’s hand, even as he tried to keep his balance and his shoulder screamed in pain. 

A couple of times he caught the sword too high up, cutting his fingers, making it even harder to maintain his grip as his palms became slick with blood. But he couldn’t stop. 

Just out of Titan’s reach, he kept moving, until finally the ledge was in sight. He took his sword and flung it onto the ledge, warping over even as the magic blazed though his body with sickening heat, undoing then reconstituting him around the sword. But he had no time to think, no time to breathe.

He wasted no time grabbing another blade from the Amiger and, even as the adrenaline was making his limbs tremble, making a flying leap back towards Titan’s calves, the swords cracking the rock and giving him safe purchase. Titan’s hand collided with where he’d been standing on the ledge mere seconds later. 

With two swords at his disposal, climbing became much easier, the rock cracking easily beneath the force of his blows. When he reached Titan’s torso, however, he began encountering problems. It was almost impossible to keep climbing and dodge Titan’s massive arms trying to shove him off at the same time. He ended up swinging from his sword, hanging on with all his strength as Titan tried to throw him off. 

Something needed to happen—could he risk using magic at this stage? 

But then, almost like a miracle, there was a massive _BANG_ from beneath him, and Titan howled in pain, his weight shifting forwards—was he falling? That would be bad—

He was jolted violently to the left as Titan fell forwards, onto his knees, and it was only holding on so tight he could practically feel his fingers bleeding that saved him from the terrifying drop to the earth below. He wrenched himself up so he was sitting on the side of the blade, gasping for breath. The wind buffeted his legs as they hung free below him, and he dug his fingers into the rock even harder.

He had to keep going, keep climbing. Even though his heart was hammering away in his chest, making him feel jumpy and off-centre, he _had_ to move. Carefully as he could, he shifted so one leg, then the other was beneath him, and he was crouched on the sword again. His knees ached in protest, trembling horribly beneath him. He couldn’t stay there for long. 

He reached up for the other sword, still embedded in Titan’s side, just above him, thank the Gods. He grabbed hold tightly, removing the sword and placing it up a little further. 

Just keep moving. 

Step by step by step, higher and higher until he was finally on something like solid ground—Titan’s broad shoulders were wide enough for him to stand on, especially since he was still hunched over from the weight of the meteor on his back. Just a little further—he drove his sword into Titan’s neck. The bellowing roar shattering the air vanished in an instant.

Maybe this would be enough?

He repeated his usual procedure with the sword, driving it a bit higher into the stone, and Titan shook beneath him, the pain clearly weakening him. Noctis kept climbing up his neck, Titan seeming to fall lower and lower, and try harder and harder to swat him away as Noctis got higher and higher.

Then—the sun had all but disappeared behind the horizon now, the world beneath was hard to see, but he was there—he’d reached Titan’s head. 

He’d already been weakened from the fighting of Cor’s men and Noctis’s own attacks as he climbed Titan’s body with his swords. Now it was time for the killing blow. 

He raised the sword above his head, willing this to be enough. Then he drove it down as hard as he could into Titan’s skull.

The crack as it entered seemed to be magnified by many times its normal volume, and with it came a scream—Titan? No, the voice was higher than Titan’s—had it always been this cold up here? The wind was screaming in his ears so loudly he barely hear anything else—the ground beneath him shaking—glowing? Titan was glowing...and the ground wasn’t so much shaking as _disappearing_...oh no.

Noctis had just enough strength in him to grab his sword and fling it towards the floor before Titan vanished completely. Then he was falling, the air rushing by him, so fast and so loud he could scarcely tell where he was, the ground rushing up beneath him. He called on the last vestiges of his magic, guiding his fingers to the hilt of his sword, somewhere on the ground below... He was there, touching the metal, he was—

Gone.

***

Ignis had barely been able to sleep that night. Visions of Noct’s death haunted him behind his eyelids, and every time he was close to drifting off the vision would resurface, clawing at his mind—his memories. How long would they need to wait here to get the power they needed?

The campfire flickered and died, and the only source of light in the cave was the blue-ish glow from the haven. The veins of glowing crystal in the walls had vanished, and there was only a very fragile, dim light to see by. 

It was cold down there in the caves too, and Ignis found himself shivering—tossing and turning on the hard stone floor. 

Were the other two having any such restless slumber? Perhaps not. Perhaps they didn’t truly understand what was at stake. They hadn’t seen what he’d seen. How _real_ it was. 

Hours trickled by and the light from the haven danced on the ceiling. 

When the other two finally began moving and waking up, Ignis wasn’t sure how long he’d been lying there. He wasn’t tired though. He couldn’t be tired when there was still something so important they had to do. 

He rose from where he lay, clambering onto his aching legs. Pain. Hah. That didn’t matter anymore. 

“Everything good, Iggy?” asked Gladio, giving a sleepy yawn. 

“Fine,” said Ignis. He wasn’t much in the mood for pointless chatter. 

Where was that voice from before? She’d said that they needed to rest before the final task. Well they were there now. So where was she?

He glanced at the other two. They didn’t seem so concerned, still messing about, tidying up. Ignis had no patience for such things, and stepped off the haven, trying to see if that would trigger some sort of reaction. 

_Noble retainers._

Ha.

_The hour has come. The final task awaits. Are they ready to proceed?_

Ignis glanced back at them, and was happy to see they were finally paying attention to what they were really there for. 

“We’re ready,” he said, answering for all of them. 

Perhaps he was imagining it, but the presence he could feel watching them seemed pleased. 

_The final task is simple,_ said the voice, and quite suddenly, the solid stone wall at the end of the chamber changed, morphing before their very eyes into the entrance of yet another room. Eerie purple light glowed within, but there was something spectacular about it—something alluring. 

_They need only proceed into the final chamber, and their lives will be taken in exchange for that of their Prince._

The chill that had been present in the room before turned to cold sharp as the edge of a knife. But Ignis was not afraid. 

He’d suspected it might come to this—the Gods so often tampered with the lives mortals, and it made sense that lives would have to be given in order to save another. He’d been raised from childhood to be prepared to give his own life for Noct’s—and besides, was a world without him really worth living in? One where he turned into a mere memory? No, it was out of the question. 

“Um, could you say that again?” Prompto’s voice was weak and timid. Ever the weakest link in the chain—a mere friend, not truly dedicated to Noct. 

“The instructions were clear,” said Ignis, turning around to face him. “Our lives for Noct’s.”

He’d thought they’d understand—that Gladio especially, who was now wearing an expression of deep alarm, would understand. But perhaps they didn’t? An unusual anger boiled within him. How was it they couldn’t see how important this was? 

“But—” Gladio began to say, but Ignis cut him off.

“It makes sense. A life for a life.”

“Three lives for a life,” Prompto tentatively pointed out. “Does that tally up?”

“It’s magic!” hissed Ignis, beginning to get frustrated. “The world of mathematics doesn’t apply.”

“No,” said Gladio. “This is weird. I’ve never heard of magic like this.”

Ignis’s frustration was rising by the second. “We’d never heard of magic eating someone from the inside out until Noct’s magic started going out of control either,” he insisted. “And time travel? Who would have thought of such a thing beforehand. If you think you can weasel out of this—”

“Can you hear yourself?” asked Gladio, now staring at him with wide eyes. “It’s like you _want_ to die.”

“ _I_ will do what’s necessary to preserve Noct’s life,” said Ignis, drawing himself up, a heady rage surging through his bones. “Though I feel I ought to remind you that should be _your_ job.”

“But this is—” Prompto began to say, now trembling like the coward he was.

“ _This_ is necessary!” Ignis cried, and now both of them were shaking. 

White tendrils of ice were spreading across the floor, and Ignis suddenly thought that he hoped they froze Prompto and Gladio—then the sacrifice would already be made, and they couldn’t ruin everything. 

“No!” cried Gladio, levying his sword, though he could barely hold it in his shaking hands. “Can’t you see what’s happening? She’s tricking you—tricking all of us!”

“ _You_ just don’t want to make the sacrifice!” Ignis yelled, the rage now uncontrollable. “You’ve never had Noct’s interests at heart, always putting your own selfish gains first! Well I’ve had it—we have to save him—it’s your _duty_ to save him!”

Gladio tried to protest but ice was already crawling up his body, depriving him of speech.

“Ignis,” Prompto said quietly, but Ignis rounded on him.

“And you!” he screamed, shaking now as well. “You would also put yourself ahead of his survival. You’ve never been as dedicated as us—you’re nothing but a useless burden on this team!”

Then they were both frozen, solid as ice, unmoving, caught in an eternal tableau. 

The chamber behind him awaited. The purple light glowed ever more fiercely as he entered, and a soft voice spoke to him. 

_Well done, blinded seer. Now, will he give his life to save his Prince?_

A ghostly form appeared before him, shining so brilliantly he could barely make out her features—other than a long, slender hand that was extended towards him. 

“I will,” he said, and took it. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Y i k e s.
> 
> To clarify—Ignis does get a little bit possessed by Shiva there at the end. And y'know, deprived of all sense, hence the...insanity. Welp—hope Noct gets there quickly!
> 
> Thanks to everyone still reading and I hope you enjoyed this chapter! If so please let me know!


	24. The Sacrifice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Previously: Noctis has a prophetic dream about Titan's defeat, and goes to fight him to stop Shiva from winning his allegiance. Meanwhile, the situation with Ignis, Prompto and Gladio escalates dangerously.

The usually cloudless blue sky was flecked with long grey clouds gathering slowly overhead, swirling menacingly above like some omen of death. 

Gentiana was waiting for him. 

“I did it,” he said, quickly clambering to his feet. “It worked, didn’t it? Titan’s on our side now.”

Gentiana’s expression remained grave. “This is true, but more danger yet awaits the King.”

Noctis faltered slightly. “How do you mean?”

“The Messenger told you before that her sight was clouded as to the Glacian’s true motives, yes? Mere moments past she received a vision of her Mistress’s goal. She seeks to kill the King’s retainers, leaving him weak and defenceless.”

Noctis was all at once extremely cold, the blood draining from his face. 

“K-kill?” 

“Yes. She believes such a thing would destroy him, and end his attempts to forestall his fate.” 

His heart was rattling in his chest, his thoughts clouded. She was going to try and kill them? How? When? What if...what if she already had them?

“It is as the King suspects.” Gentiana’s voice cut through his clouded thoughts. “The Glacian has them already within her grasp, having lured them from the King with the promise of saving him. Even now, their lives hang in the balance. The Messenger is doing all she can to obscure their path to the Beyond, but she cannot maintain this long.”

“I’ll get them,” said Noctis.

Gentiana smiled. 

“Yes.”

* * *

He awoke to the sound of muffled voices talking from somewhere above him. 

“Is he going to be okay?”

“I don’t know. He’s been like this for hours.”

“Listen, I ain’t leaving that car here if that thing shows up again—”

“Shh—he’s waking up!”

Three faces swam into view before him, but not the three he wanted to see. Iris, Cor and Cindy were all staring down at him. 

He quickly tried to push himself upright, and Cor immediately went to help him, pulling him onto his feet. 

“Are you alright, Your Highness?” he asked. “After seeing you fall all that way we weren’t sure...”

“I’m fine,” Noctis insisted, pushing Cor’s hand away. “I’ve survived worse than this, believe me.”

“You sure look like it,” snorted Cindy, folding her arms. Noctis couldn’t hide his surprise at seeing her, and apparently she noticed because she quickly went into an explanation. “The Marshal here asked me to bring your car around. Didn’t realise you’d forget to fill her up before trying to drive her!”

“Yeah, sorry about that,” said Noctis, rubbing his head. “We were kind of in a rush.”

“Well it’s no big thing. Anyway, she’s over there if you want her.” Cindy nodded to the road, just visible over the edge of the ridge, where, sure enough, the Regalia lay waiting. 

“Don’t we have bigger things to worry about that cars?” asked Iris, glaring at Cindy. “Taelpar Crag’s still frozen!”

“What?” asked Noctis, suddenly on the alert. If there was ice then Shiva was surely nearby, and if she had the others...

“It happened only a few moments after you defeated Titan,” said Cor, tiredly. “First Leviathan came and almost caused a flood before disappearing again, then the Crag completely froze over.”

“We think they’re pissed you got to Titan before them,” said Iris.

“Well, you’re not entirely wrong,” he said, glancing over to where the Crag was. It wasn’t quite visible from where he was standing, but he could make out long shards of ice extending out of the canyon high enough to be visible from the top of the ridge.

“How do you mean?” asked Cor. “Do you have any information on this?”

Noctis glanced nervously at Iris, who was staring at him eagerly. Well, it was only right she knew about what might have happened to her brother. 

“The others are down there,” he said, making an educated guess. “Gladio, Prompto and Ignis.”

“What!” cried Iris. 

“How do you know this?” asked Cor. 

“Gentiana’s still on my side, she told me Shiva was going to try and kill them to get to me. She lured them away, promising that she had some way to save me.”

“And they fell right into her trap,” said Cor, leaning his face in his hands. 

“But they’re alright, aren’t they?” asked Iris, her eyes wild. “We’re gonna help them, right Noct? Come on let’s go—let’s go right now!”

She grabbed his hand and began pulling him to the edge of the ridge, but Cindy quickly stood in her way. “Woah there, little lady, don’t you think you should let us grown ups deal with this?”

“No!” yelled Iris, clearly beside herself. “He’s my brother—I have to help!”

“ _Iris,_ ” said Cor, pinching the bridge of his nose. 

“Noct, please!” she said, rounding on him, tears already beginning to trickle down her cheeks. “Please, he’s all I have left—I have to help...”

Noctis took her by the shoulders. “Iris, look at me,” he said, and she did, still sniffing. “I won’t let Gladio die, I can promise you that. But...” 

She was still crying, and he remembered their talk before, her frustration at not being able to help, her misery now as she was going to be kept out once again. And what if he did fail? Gladio wasn’t immortal like him. Could he really return to Iris saying he’d broken his promise? At least if she was there...

“If you promise to do whatever I say, you can come with me,” he said.

Iris’s face instantly lit up.

“Noctis—” Cor began, but Noctis held up his hand.

“She’s old enough to help, Cor,” he said, turning back to help him. “And I know she’ll never forgive herself if she doesn’t come, right?” He glanced back at Iris and she nodded vigorously. 

Cor rolled his eyes, clearly not impressed. “Noctis, please...”

“And when I say you have to do whatever I say, I mean it, Iris,” he said, ignoring Cor. “If I say you have to leave me and save yourself you have to do it—do you promise?”

Iris’s expression faltered for a moment, then became determined again. “I do,” she said. 

Noctis glanced back at Cor, who still looked exasperated. 

“I suppose there’s no persuading you two,” he muttered. 

“Nope,” said Noctis.

“You gonna take the car?” asked Cindy. “It’s the fastest way to get to the bridge, then you can get to the ice properly.” 

“Yes,” said Noctis, a plan formulating in his mind. “I think we will.”

* * *

The drive to Taelpar Crag must have been one of the longest in his entire life. When the bridge finally rose into sight, he felt they must have been driving for hours. 

The chasm had been utterly transformed by Shiva’s magic—where once it had been so deep it was impossible to see to the bottom even in the clear light of day, now a huge structure of icy tendrils wound their way around the insides of the cavern, like hundreds of interlocking snakes weaving in and out of each other, creating an expansive network of icy caves. It would be difficult to get down to the bottom, where from deep below a strange purple light seemed to be emanating. But that was where the others were. He was sure of it. 

They pulled onto the bridge spanning the length of the chasm, and parked near the middle, where the ice seemed most solid. 

He and Iris disembarked from the car, and rushed over to the edge of the bridge. The ice wasn’t far below them. It would be safe to jump.

“I’ll go first,” he said, dangling a leg over the side. “You follow after me.”

She nodded, and he gently lowered himself from the edge of the bridge onto the ice below. It crunched under his boots, but held firm under his weight. 

“Okay, I’m coming down,” said Iris, mirroring his movements. He made sure to stand close by, just in case she fell, but she made it down unscathed. 

Now they were both standing atop the ice, the purple light dancing below them, almost taunting them.

“How are we going to get down there?” she asked.

“There are holes all around, see?” he said, pointing several out. “If we’re lucky we can find one that’ll let us slide down to the bottom.”

“And if we’re not?” 

“Then we take it one step at a time.”

It wasn’t long before Noctis found a likely looking hole and called Iris over. 

“I’ll slide down and call when I’ve reached the bottom, wherever that is,” he said, staring at the tunnel and hoping it didn’t go into a straight drop to the floor. “If I don’t reply after five minutes call Cor straight away.”

“Okay,” said Iris, a determined look on her face. 

Noctis sat down on the edge of the hole in the ice, dangling his ledge over the edge and trying not to feel too intimidated. It was just like going down one of the steep slides at the amusement parks. Probably. Ignoring the fact Shiva was probably trying to trick him into dying. 

But now he was just making up excuses. He had no more time to waste. Not while the others were still somewhere down there, freezing to death. 

He finally pushed himself off the ledge, and the next moment he was hurtling downwards, completely at the mercy of the icy tunnel. An endless expanse of blue went rushing past him, and there were holes and chasms on either side, any of which he could have fallen down, but he did not. As though divine providence had finally decided to take his side, he fell straight down the central tunnel, and seconds stretched into minutes as he kept falling. 

A terrible thought struck him—that if he really did reach the bottom, Iris might not even be able to hear him from so far away. Then he’d have to go on alone. He’d be able to do it, he was sure, but he didn’t want her to worry he was dead for no reason. 

Finally the tunnel began to straighten out and a few seconds later Noctis went tumbling onto the floor of the chasm, rolling along the ground and scuffing his elbows on the floor.

Wincing, he leapt to his feet and rushed over to the tunnel he’d fallen out of.

“It’s safe!” he bellowed up the tunnel, hoping that Iris would somehow hear him. “It goes all the way down to the bottom!”

Had she heard? He had no way of knowing—and no idea how long he’d been falling either. 

He backed away from the entrance a bit and decided to wait for a few minutes to see if she would follow. 

Just as he was about to give up, assuming she couldn’t have heard him, he began to hear something bumping about from somewhere above him. And that sound—could it be a voice? His question was answered mere seconds later, as Iris came flying out of the tunnel and yelped as she hit the ground, rolling rather inelegantly into the dusty cavern floor.

She quickly leapt to her feet and ruffled her hair, as though embarrassed he might have seen her like that. 

“You heard me,” he said, grinning.

“Sure did,” said Iris. “It was hard to tell what you were saying though. For a moment I thought it might be Shiva trying to trick me, but I figured I might as well give it a go. Where do you think they are?”

She was looking around the cavern now, but Noctis was reasonably sure of where they needed to go. 

“I think they’re over there, see,” he said, pointing to the east. 

The dancing purple light they’d seen on the surface had a more clear source now, and was coming from the caves to the east, the colours flickering and changing on the walls, like light from a flame. 

“Well then, what are we waiting for?” asked Iris, already trekking ahead. 

“Iris, wait a moment,” said Noctis, hurrying over to her. “Take this,” he said, and handed her the other sword he’d pulled from the Amiger when he was fighting Titan.

She looked up at him with alarm. “Think I’ll need it?”

“Yes,” said Noctis, glancing up at the ceiling of the icy structure they were caught in. “It’s dark down here, dark enough that I think there could easily be daemons hiding in the walls. We’ll need to be careful.”

Iris took the sword and nodded. “Okay. Lead the way.”

Noctis lead the way through the caves, ducking and weaving through the passages, Iris following closely behind.

The caves were icy and treacherous, even without the threat of demons lurking in every corner. Their feet slipped and slid beneath them, the walls offering no safe purchase to keep them from falling to the ground. Noctis kept a close eye on Iris as they kept going through the cave—for all he had given her a sword he wasn’t sure she would be able to protect herself from the dangers that waited below. And it wasn’t just the daemons he was worried about. Shiva was down here somewhere too.

The deeper they moved into the caves the colder it got, until Noctis found himself shivering uncontrollably with every step. It was as though Shiva knew somehow that they were there, as though she was waiting for them. He could feel her unseen presence in the air, a cold chill on his back.

"Is everything all right, Noctis?" asked Iris.

Obviously she'd noticed his worry.

"It's fine," he said. "Just stay on your guard."

Iris did not seem reassured, but he didn't have time to worry about that now. He needed to get the others as quickly as possible.

He began to hear things in the dark, something moving in the shadows.

"Get ready," he said.

Iris lifted her sword into a defensive stance. They couldn't be far off now.

Noctis's palms were slick with sweat but he gripped his sword tightly, waiting for the daemons to show themselves.

Could he have been imagining it?

He couldn't hear them now, but he was sure they were close by…

Then a dreadful shrieking and wailing sound echoed through one of the tunnels and a daemon erupted out, leaping at them with flailing claws.

Noctis quickly deflected it with his sword, following it with a slashing strike to its face. The daemon roared with pain but did not relent, throwing itself at him with wild fury, its razor-sharp claws slashing at the air. Seconds later the daemon fell to dust before him, but the fight was not over yet. 

Iris was struggling with a daemon many times her size, and though it was slow it was clearly wearing her down. Noctis rushed over to help her, slashing at the back of the thing's neck and soon it was as dust as well.

Iris was leaning on her knees, panting with the exertion.

"Are you all right?" asked Noctis.

"Just about," sighed Iris, standing upright once again. "That thing was brutal, Noct."

"That's daemons for you."

"Hope you get rid of them soon," she said with a tired smile.

"I'll try my best."

He wondered if she remembered doing that would probably kill him. Maybe she did. It was hardly his place to remind her.

They ran into more demons as they went through the caves but now they had faced one Iris seemed more prepared to deal with them.

All the while the purple light danced just ahead of them, just out of reach. They must be getting close now. But the caves seemed to twist and turn back in on each other, and had Noctis not had some vague idea of where they were going they would have been quite lost.

But finally, after what seemed like hours of walking (far too long), they reached the entrance of a cave made entirely of rock. The purple light blazed within, flickering and pulsing through crystalline veins that ran along the walls. This had to be where the others has been trapped.

"Is she here?" asked Iris.

"I'm willing to bet on it," said Noctis.

"Do you think Gladdy's okay?" asked Iris, and for the first time Noctis thought he heard a trace of fear in her voice.

"He will be," said Noctis. He had to be.

They entered the cave, hands still fixed on their weapons, looking around every corner for any sign of more daemons. Ahead of them stretched one long, seemingly endless tunnel. The lights continued to dance overhead, and Noctis felt sure Shiva’s presence somehow lurked within, watching them intently as they continued through the cave. The cold wasn’t any less intense in the cave, though most of the ice had vanished—except in places where it hung from the ceiling in long sharp icicles. Like daggers waiting to fall upon them from above. 

Iris was shaking slightly, even as she walked, though from the cold or just sheer anxiety Noctis couldn’t tell. 

“Have you ever done anything like this before, Noct?”

Her voice was quiet and small. Noctis thought back to his many lives, in and out of reality. Strangely enough, he hadn’t. It was rare that the others left him. And when they did…well, he hadn’t cared much. 

“No,” he said. “This is new.” New and terrifying. 

“But you’ve fought the Gods before, right?”

“Yeah.” 

But usually he was a bit more focused on killing them than saving others. That would be of no reassurance to Iris though, so he didn’t say as much. 

“If Shiva’s still in here somewhere, we’ll find her,” he said. “And she knows better than to try and fight me.”

He hoped so, anyway.

Eternity seemed to stretch out before them as they made their way through the cave. Did it usually take this long? Or was it just his mind playing tricks on him again…

Then, just as Noctis was beginning to think that even if they did find the others down here, by now it would be much too late, the tunnel came to an abrupt end, as did the light shining overhead. 

The room that awaited them was dark. The only source of light lay ahead of them, in the centre of the room. A raised platform stood directly in the centre, an odd blue light emanating from within, tendrils of smoke-like glowing particles shimmering upwards, towards the ceiling. A haven. But there was no one stood upon it. 

“Think they were here?” asked Iris.

“Yes,” said Noctis. He was sure of it…and yet… 

He entered the room, each footfall sounding a hundred times louder than it should in the darkness, and Noctis could feel something dancing at the edge of his senses—a presence. She was definitely here. So why wasn’t she showing herself?

As they approached the haven though, it became obvious that it was not so empty as they might have thought.

“Hey, Noct—is that…?”

It wasn’t hard to guess what she was referring to. In the centre of the haven were the ashen remains of a campfire, all but burnt out. It hadn’t been out for long though, so they couldn’t have gone far.

“They’re still in here somewhere,” he said, stepping onto the haven to get a closer look.

A wind that chilled him to the bones swept through the room with a fierce vengeance, and for a split second, purple light pulsed through the crystals on the ceiling, revealing two shadowy figures either side of the haven. 

Iris yelped with surprise. 

“Noct, did you see that?”

“Yeah,” he said, clutching his sword a bit tighter in his hand. “Stay close to me.” 

But the figures, now dimly visible in the blue light from the haven, did not move at all. Something wasn’t right here.

“Give me a second,” he said, then stepped off the haven, approaching one of the motionless figures. 

He no longer had his phone to try and light the way, but he still had the tiny torch attached to his jacket, and once he was close enough to see the figure properly, he flicked it on. 

Iris gave a terrified scream from behind him. It wasn’t hard to see why. It was Gladio, that much was plain to see, but something was very wrong. His limbs were entirely motionless, not even his chest was moving. No sign of breathing. His eyes were wide open, but there was no sign of recognition on his face—no nothing. There was an odd blue-ish tinge to his skin, and as Noctis noticed this, he realised what must have happened. He’d been frozen solid.

“I-is that him?” whispered Iris, now beside him, looking at her brother in horror. “How did this happen? What...?”

“She froze him,” said Noctis, trying to ignore the panic rising in his chest. 

“Is he still alive?” Iris’s voice was cracked and small. 

Noctis stared at the statue. How long had he been frozen like this? If it had been more than a few minutes... But no, he couldn’t give up now! He’d promised her—this wasn’t the end.

But Iris had already taken his silence as an answer, and flung herself onto Gladio’s frozen form, sobbing quietly. 

“We can still break the magic, Iris,” he said, trying desperately to comfort her. “This isn’t the end—I’m sure—”

But an icy chill had entered the cave, halting the words in his throat. 

The purple light was back, shining brighter than ever, revealing the figure on the other side of the room to be Prompto, equally frozen. Crystals hovered in the air, flashing in and out of reality, and the room only got colder and colder. 

Ice was spreading over the floor, creeping towards them with terrifying rapidity. Noctis knew that if it reached them they were done for. 

“Iris, watch out!” he yelled, but his warning hadn’t reached her in time. Even as she lifted her head to look at him, the icy tendrils reached her, freezing her as solid as Gladio. 

Noctis didn’t have time to think if that meant she was alive or dead—he needed to focus on staying alive and getting Shiva out somehow. The ice was creeping towards him, and though he was backing away it was beginning to surround him on all sides. The haven wouldn’t be safe—that would be fully under Shiva’s control. But there was a doorway just ahead of him—was that someone inside?

As though she somehow knew what he was thinking, an icy sheet closed over the doorway, sealing off the chamber inside. All the exits were sealed now. And he wasn’t fast enough to escape the ice. 

But he couldn’t hurt the others now—not even if he’d wanted to. Shiva had taken care of that. Which meant that all that was left was to take care of her. 

Finally, the ice met him. It shot through him with the force of a bullet, punching through his clothes, penetrating his skin, freezing his flesh—but rage was already burning within him, and beyond that, deeper than that, another power, lurking unseen in every particle of air, every atom of ice—and all at once, it stopped. 

The fire burning in his chest continued to roar, defrosting his bones, his muscles, breathing life back into him before it could truly leave. There was a force battling behind it, trying to force him back, but he was stronger. A hand guided his hand, and their combined strength was stronger than that of Shiva’s. 

The ice withered and faded, and his life and consciousness was finally fully restored. He stood in a chamber covered in ice, glowing crystals humming in and out of life all around him, and in the centre, there she stood. 

Shiva. 

“How have you done this?” she spat, her usually serene face contorted with rage.

“Didn’t I warn you at the start that Eos wasn’t exactly on your side?” he said, trying not to let the rage take over. “She’s not going to help you with this. It’s in her interest to keep me alive.”

“That does not mean that you should be allowed to rebel so brazenly,” hissed Shiva. “You are encouraging the mortals to rise against us, as your foul ancestors did in ages once past.”

“Well, maybe if you weren’t trying to kill all of us, we wouldn’t want to fight?” 

“Do not play word games with me!”

Noctis clutched his sword tightly in his hand, now shaking with fury. “Well there is another way to do this, isn’t there?”

Shiva’s eyes fell to his sword, a cold, hard light inside them. 

“So be it,” she whispered.

Then she was gone. 

The crystals still glowed, hanging in the air, and the purple light pulsed down from above, strobing in different places all around the room, creating strange shadows on the walls, and odd shapes within the ice. 

She could come from any angle, and he’d have no way of knowing she was there—he had to find some way to see her...

Then the pulsing lights on the ceiling slowed, and like his brain finally putting all of the pieces of the puzzle together, he saw a clear pattern within. The lights untangled themselves, and rather than a confusing mess of light and sound, he saw an outline of a woman in the darkness. He could see her. 

The power was not his own, he knew that much, but it would be enough for him to win this. After all, she wasn’t the only one with power over the ice.

Faster than he could think, he leapt towards her, feeling for the ice in the air, and drawing it back into reality. 

Shiva gave a sharp cry as she was forced back into being, then a horrific noise tore through the cavern as he drove the sword into her back. Like metal grinding on metal, stone crunching on stone, it was as though the cave was falling apart. 

It wasn’t over yet though. 

Noctis still had a tight grip on the sword, but as he tried to pull it out, an ice cold hand closed over his, freezing it numb.

He gasped with the shock of it, then Shiva slowly pulled the sword from her back, and as she did Noctis saw the ice spreading further and further up his arm, reaching towards his heart. He needed to move quickly. 

But she was gone again! Sunk back into the shadows, and this time he couldn’t see her. Panic was rising within now, hot and furious, as the ice consumed his arm and reached towards his shoulders. How was Shiva so powerful? Was there really no escape? 

He tried to reach for the power that had helped him before, but his senses were dulled with the pain. His mind seemed to be falling and crumbling to pieces even as he tried desperately to stop it. His vision was slipping and sliding out of focus, all sound distorted and strange. He couldn’t feel his limbs—all was going still...

Then he could see again. And she was there. 

The room was entirely dark now—if it was a room at all. He felt oddly weightless, as though floating through the air rather than standing on solid ground. She didn’t seem to see him, her gaze fixed slightly off and to the left, her expression distant and thoughtful. 

There was a sword in his hand. 

He walked towards her—or thought he did, anyway. It was hard to tell. Still she showed no sign of recognition, had no inkling he was there. It almost felt wrong to try and do it like this. But she’d tried to kill his friends. Might have succeeded in doing so. 

Still, it was in a slow, measured way he raised his sword, aligning it with where her heart would sit in her chest. Had it been anyone else, in fact, he’d have been sorry.

But he was not. 

The illusion unravelled around him as the sword sank deep into her chest, a mortal wound even she couldn’t hope to shrug off. The darkened cavern came back into sight, and finally she saw him, her eyes glancing up to give him one last hateful glare, before disappearing into dust. 

And as she vanished, the ice in the cavern began to fall away. The floor became unfrozen, creeping away as quickly as it had crept in, and as it did, the statues of his frozen friends were all at once not so frozen anymore.

They all collapsed to the ground at once, Gladio, Prompto, Iris, and Noctis felt very much like doing the same, but he knew he could not. Not quite yet. 

He rushed over to where Iris lay prone—she was the most likely to still be alright, and pressed his fingers to her neck, trying to find a pulse. 

It was dull, but still most definitely there. 

Noctis gave a deep sigh of relief, so deep he thought his life might escape his lungs along with the air. 

She was alive. And as he glanced over at Gladio, he saw the slow rise and fall of his chest too. That surely meant Prompto must also be alright. Thank the Gods. 

But there was one person still unaccounted for. 

With Shiva now gone, the chamber ahead that had been sealed off before was now open, and the purple light still blazed within, strange tendrils flickering in and out of sight. That was where he must be.

Noctis was just about to rise to his feet, when Iris began coughing fiercely just next to him. 

Fortunately it seemed to be nothing too serious, and the bout of coughing had forced her awake. 

“Noct?” she asked groggily, staring up at him with only half-consciousness in her eyes.

“I’m here,” he said. 

She blinked a few times, slowly returning to the world of the living, then sat bolt upright, looking around wildly.

“He’s okay!” Noctis said quickly. “Gladio, I mean—look.” 

He pointed to Gladio’s unconscious body, and Iris immediately scrambled over to it, presumably to check for herself. 

Once it became obvious he was still breathing, she flung her arms around his neck and gave a choked sob. 

Noctis cautiously approached, unsure of whether he ought to intrude.

“He’s going to be alright, now, isn’t he?” asked Iris, looking up at him with tears still in her eyes, but happy ones this time.

“Yeah, I think so,” said Noctis. In truth he had no idea what would happen, but Gladio was still alive and that was the important thing. 

“Are the others okay?” asked Iris. “Ignis and Prompto?”

“Well I think Prompto’s fine,” said Noctis, glancing back at where he was lying on the floor a few feet away. “But I haven’t seen Ignis.”

“Where could he be?” asked Iris, sniffing.

“Well, call it a hunch, but I think he’s in there.”

Noctis pointed towards the eerily lit cave. The light from within seemed fiercer now. 

“You gonna go check on him?” asked Iris.

“Yes,” said Noctis. “But you should stay here.”

Iris looked like she was about to protest, but Noctis didn’t let her get the words out. “Someone needs to make sure these two are alright, alright?”

Iris sighed. “I guess.” She glanced back at her brother, then shuffled a bit closer to him. “You go on ahead. Call me if something goes wrong.”

Noctis smiled at her. “Will do.”

The entrance to the cavern glowed ominously the closer he got to it. He could see a figure within—clearly now, stooped over—but not unconscious like Prompto and Gladio had been.

It had to be Ignis, and yet...something didn’t seem right. 

As he entered the cave, the air around him seemed to shift and sparks of electric tension buzzed along his skin. Shiva may be gone, but her magic was still here—he could feel it. 

Lights danced in the air, and now he could see Ignis a little more clearly. 

He was poised, as though about to enter combat, though his eyes were blank and unseeing...inhuman, almost. There was a purplish sheen to them, an illusion of some kind, and...

Along his arms, strange marks had appeared. Like deep gashes made of light. Gashes Noctis had seen before, on his own arms. He looked immediately for the source, hoping, praying it wasn’t there—but sure enough, on Ignis’s left hand, the Ring of the Lucii glowed with destructive light.

His heart jumped into his throat. He knew what the Ring did to those not of Royal blood.

“Take that off!” he said, and Ignis suddenly jolted to life, his eyes now glowing just like his arms. 

So he could hear him at least...but he wasn’t moving to take off the Ring...

“Ignis, please,” he said, approaching him slowly. “There’s no danger now. Take off the Ring before it hurts you.”

“You!” cried Ignis, lurching backwards. “I won’t fall for your trickery!”

“What?” Ignis couldn’t mean that, could he? But there was a dagger in his hand. “Ignis, come on, you’ve got to know what the Ring does.”

“It will save Noct,” Ignis hissed hoarsely. “The Gods are going to save him.”

Noctis couldn’t help but give a sharp laugh. “Save me? Didn’t you see what Shiva did to Prompto and Gladio back there?”

“I will not listen to anymore of this!” Ignis cried, his emotion clearly growing. “You are the cause of all this—Noct said as much. The reason the Starscourge is destroying this star.”

_Yes._

A voice hovered on the wind, a voice Noctis was sure he recognised. Shit. She was back. Already? But how...

“This must be my final test,” Ignis whispered, and Noctis was horrified by the desperation—the fanaticism in his voice. “I have to destroy you. It’s the only way to save Noct.”

“Who do you think I am?” asked Noctis, alarmed by Ignis’s wild ranting. “Some lookalike?”

“You are the Accursed,” said Ignis, his eyes glowing with unnatural light. “And I must destroy you.”

Something finally clicked into place in Noctis’s mind, and he realised what Ignis must be seeing. 

“You think I’m—”

But he didn’t manage to finish the sentence, because the next moment Ignis lunged at him, dagger slashing at his throat, and it was only Noctis’s lightning-quick reflexes that saved him. 

“What are you doing?” he yelled instinctively, as Ignis lunged at him again. “I’m not Ardyn!”

“I will not hear your lies!” hissed Ignis.

Noctis was already tired from his confrontation with Shiva, and Ignis was so fast with his daggers he barely had time to warp out of the way. He couldn’t fight back though—couldn’t risk hurting Ignis with his own magic—not when the Ring was probably burning the life out from inside him.

Ignis dived at him again, and this time Noctis lifted his sword up to deflect the dagger, forcing them into a battle of strength.

“Look at my face,” Noctis panted. “Can’t you see I’m not him—I’m not trying to kill you.”

Ignis’s eyes were wild, the gashes of light now winding around the edges of his face. If he didn’t end this soon Ignis might not survive at all. 

“It’s the final step,” said Ignis, still incoherent. “The last piece. You cannot stop me.”

Finally, Noctis managed to shove Ignis back, and then they returned to their game of cat and mouse. Just refraining from attacking him wasn’t working—he needed to prove to him who he was—get the Ring off before it could do any more damage. 

The dagger narrowly avoided cutting his face again, and an idea struck him. If he could just get Ignis’s weapon away from him...

He began to become more defensive in his fighting, his sword clashing with Ignis’s dagger, trying again and again to knock it from his fingers. 

It was tiring work. 

His reactions were getting slower, while the magic of the Ring kept Ignis going, even as it drained his life-force away. 

Ignis landed more hits on him, cuts on his arm, a gash on his cheek. 

He couldn’t keep this up much longer...

He lifted his sword again—deflection after deflection until—

Yes!

The dagger went spinning away. Ignis immediately tried to throw himself towards it, to grab it, but Noctis was too fast this time, and caught him by the shoulders, forcing him to face him.

“I’M. NOT. ARDYN!” he half-screamed—so panicked and exhausted he couldn’t speak normally, half-hoping the volume would somehow get it through Ignis’s head. 

“Look at me,” he hissed, shaking him. “I’m not him. The Gods are tricking you!”

With the loss of his weapon, Ignis seemed to be returning slowly to his senses. 

“Noct?” he whispered.

“Yes!” cried Noctis. “Yes, it’s me!”

Ignis stared at him, eyes terribly wide, still burning with that dreadful light, then his face seemed to crumple. “I tried to hurt you,” he said, voice now dreadfully cracked—from emotion or from the strain of the Ring.

“That doesn’t matter now,” said Noctis, shaking his head. “Just give me the Ring—then it’ll all be over.”

“I can’t,” said Ignis, suddenly pulling away from him. “I can’t—it’s the only thing left—it’s supposed to save you.”

“How is it going to save me?” asked Noctis, panic building within. Ignis was no longer attacking him, but the Ring must still be burning him—consuming him. He needed to take it off. 

“The sacrifice,” murmured Ignis. Then the wild look came back. “I didn’t do it right!” he cried, insanity gripping him once again. “I didn’t do it right—I survived and now it’ll kill you. I’ve done it all wrong—”

He grabbed at the dagger once again, but Noctis barrelled into him, terrified of what might happen if he managed to get it.

“What are you _talking_ about?” he cried—probably too loudly, but that didn’t matter anymore. “There’s no sacrifice except mine!”

“No,” hissed Ignis, still trying to reach for the dagger. “She said—if we died then you would live—it was all planned out. But I’ve ruined it!”

Rage had gripped Noctis now, both at Shiva for this web she’d spun around them, and at Ignis for even considering the idea.

“You can’t save me!” he yelled, all notion of trying to be persuasive gone. “How many times do I have to tell you—there’s no point in dying for me! I’m the one who dies—full stop—end of story! That’s the way it has to be!”

“No!” cried Ignis, still heightened. “No that isn’t right!”

“Yes it is!” 

Then, just as Ignis almost got the upper hand, Noctis forced him to the floor, all thoughts of hiding the truth vanishing in the face of trying to get Ignis to give him the Ring.

“You don’t know how many times I’ve done this!” he yelled, fury and panic consuming him. “Hundreds! There’s no way out—there’s nothing that can save me! I don’t _want_ to be saved! All I want is to rest—this is my final chance. I _have_ to die, Ignis, I have to!”

Memories were flashing behind his eyes, visions of all the times he’d perished, only to be forced back into life. His hand’s gripped Ignis’s wrist tightly, and he felt the power of the Ring was somehow burning him too, forcing his memories to the surface, and he could see them reflected in Ignis’s burning eyes.

“There’s no point in dying for me,” he hissed. “No point in sacrificing yourself—I won’t _let_ you sacrifice yourself! Now please. Give me the Ring.”

Ignis was staring at him, unmoving, hand still clenched tightly around the cursed object.

“Ignis!” he cried, shaking him by the shoulders.

Slowly, painfully slowly, his hand uncurled, and glowing tears fell down Ignis’s cheeks. 

Noctis wrenched off the Ring before Ignis could change his mind, and the beastly glow finally faded, and Ignis’s eyes fell shut, as though the Ring was the only thing keeping him conscious. 

The glowing wounds in his arms and around his face turned grey and ashy, and finally he was asleep. The tears were still falling down his cheeks. And Noctis was crying too, he realised, the tears hot and wet against his freezing cold skin. 

He wiped them away, and stumbled to his feet. 

He was exhausted, almost too tired to stand, but he still had to get everyone back to the top of the chasm, to a hospital. 

It was going to be a long climb. 


	25. The Climb

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Previously: Noctis is warned by Gentiana that Shiva is threatening his friends' lives and goes with Iris to rescue them. They discover Prompto and Gladio already frozen, prompting Noctis to fight Shiva and force her to release them. In the final chamber, however, Ignis has been left delusional by both the influence of the Ring and Shiva's effect on his mind, fighting Noctis in the belief that he's Ardyn, before Noctis finally succeeds in disarming him and retriving the Ring.

Iris gasped as he entered, dragging Ignis over his shoulder.

“Noct!” she cried, quickly clambering to her feet. “Are you okay? I heard sounds in there but I couldn’t get inside. What—”

“I’m not ready to talk about it just yet.”

Iris glanced at the floor. “Right, sorry.” 

Noctis adjusted Ignis’s weight on his back. He wasn’t massively heavy, but his height was a problem, and it meant every move was cumbersome. 

He stared down at the two prone figures lying on the cavern floor. Prompto and Gladio weren’t going to be easy to shift either. Especially not with just him and Iris dragging them. 

“I can move Gladdy,” said Iris, guessing what he was thinking. 

“You sure?” 

Iris glanced down at her brother. “Well he might get a bit scuffed, but...yeah. I can do it.” 

“Okay,” said Noctis, too tired to argue. “We need to get back to the canyon, get these three to hospital. I dunno how much damage the ice has done.”

For a moment, a flicker of fear crossed Iris’s face, but it quickly faded to a look of determination. “Right.”

Noctis staggered over to Prompto, moving Ignis to one shoulder and balancing Prompto on the other. He felt as though he was being crushed, and had the nasty feeling it was only his magic keeping him upright under the weight of two people. Which meant when he _did_ reach the surface and stop using it, there would be hell to pay.

For now though, he just had to focus on getting there.

Iris had heaved Gladio’s huge arms over her shoulders, leaving most of the rest of him trailing behind her. Given the circumstances though, it might be the best he could hope for.

“You ready?” he asked. 

“Yep,” said Iris, though she was clearly already feeling the strain, sweat beading on her forehead. 

“Let’s go.”

The journey back through the cavern was long and treacherous, longer than it had been on the way in, it seemed. 

There were steep downwards slopes, uncertain, rocky inclines, large rocks sticking up out of the ground which were easy to trip over. And all the while the weight of Ignis and Prompto strained his back, burning him down to his core. Or was that just his magic? It was hard to tell the difference. 

But neither he nor Iris made any complaint as the trudged through the cavern. Perhaps it was because they were both too tired to try and say anything. Perhaps they were too caught up in their own thoughts to try and convey them to one another. Either way, most of the journey went in silence.

And in the silence, dreadful thoughts began to haunt Noctis’s mind. 

He’d been right in his guess, though it was not a comforting feeling. They’d all come out here to try and save him—tricked by Shiva, preying on their fears. Gentiana had warned him about this, but he hadn’t taken her seriously enough. If he’d only stuck around, only kept an eye on them... If he hadn’t blown up on them at camp would any of this have happened? 

But that was only the temporary trigger. He _knew_ why this had happened—blurted out as much when trying to talk Ignis down. There was a reason they were so convinced he could still be saved. He’d kept the truth from them. Again. If they found out what he’d known—ever since Leviathan, he wasn’t sure they’d forgive him. But they’d almost died for him out here. _Might still die,_ a dreadful voice in the back of his mind sneered. 

They had a right to know. 

If only so they didn’t try it again. 

A light at the end of the long tunnel they were trekking through signalled that they were nearing the surface again.

“Not much further now,” he panted, his voice cracking from the strain.

“Yeah,” murmured Iris, whose face was an alarming shade of red. He hoped carrying Gladio wasn’t too much for her.

Then, at long last, they emerged from the tunnel.

The ice that had created a shimmering network of holes and passages above had vanished, leaving only the light from the sun shining down on them from above.

There was a sharp cry from somewhere above them. 

“Hey, Cor! I see ‘em!”

It was impossible to see the details from so far away, but whoever it was appeared to be carrying a megaphone so they could hear perfectly clearly. 

A second figure on the bridge ran over and took the megaphone from the first person. 

“Hello!” a voice that was unmistakably Cor’s bellowed. “Noctis! Iris! Is that you down there?”

Noctis wasn’t sure how to convey as much when he could barely speak, but Iris took that task from him.

“Yeah!” she yelled weakly, and raised one hand in a thumbs up.

Apparently Cor saw, because he continued, “Can you warp up?” 

Noctis shook his head vigorously and Iris made a ‘no way’ gesture by sliding her hand across her throat.

They must have had binoculars or a telescope up there, because Cor understood this. 

“How are we going to get you out?”

That was putting rather a lot of emphasis on them, Noctis thought, but Iris seemed to have an answer. She pointed directly across from them, to the other side of the canyon, where, now Noctis looked, there appeared to be a pathway leading up to the top. 

Well, that solved the mystery of how the others got down, but Noctis didn’t fancy their chances of getting all the way up on their own, let alone heaving three people with them. 

“We’ll meet you there!” said Cor, then the megaphone cut out.

Noctis glanced at Iris, still very red.

“Want to swap?” he asked, gesturing at Prompto’s limp form on his back.

“‘S fine,” murmured Iris, though he could see she was beginning to flag from exhaustion. 

“Come on,” he said, letting Prompto gently down to the ground.

“But what about you?” 

“I’ve got magic, remember?”

Iris gave him a tired grin, then let Gladio down, picking up Prompto in his place. Noctis heaved Gladio onto his shoulders, immediately feeling the pain shoot through him with a hundred times its previous intensity. Then it faded. Noctis was not keen on finding out what would happen to him when it returned, but for now he had to focus on just getting them to the top of the chasm. 

The path leading up to the top was almost as treacherous as that inside the cavern, and Noctis found himself having to pause several times to catch his breath, and make sure neither Gladio nor Ignis fell from his shoulders, all the way back to the ground below.

Iris was going on just ahead of him, and he could see Prompto’s limp feet dangling behind her as she moved. The only relief they had was that it was still a cold day, the chill somewhat offsetting how warm and sticky they were getting from all the exertion. And for Noctis, at least, it took his mind off the knowledge that he’d soon have the magic within him build to a boiling point. He needed to get them to the top before that happened. 

Climbing and panting, the two of them shuffled up the pathway, by now far too tired to speak. 

Noctis thought they must have gotten about halfway up the path before a familiar voice sounded just ahead of them.

“There you are!” cried Cor, rushing over to them. “We thought we might have lost you for a moment—terrible visibility from the top of the bridge—here, let me help with that.”

He reached towards Iris to get her to give him Prompto, but Cindy’s voice called out behind him, “Hey, don’t you think you should handle the big one?”

Cor looked ahead at where Noctis was standing, barely able to stay upright.

“Right,” he said. “Now this’ll be difficult, won’t it?”

He wasn’t wrong. The path, while stable, was quite narrow, and he’d have a job squeezing around. 

“Iris,” murmured Noctis, his words slightly slurred with exhaustion, “if you could just let Prompto to the ground...then Cor can get by you.”

Iris, having no energy to talk, just nodded tiredly and slowly let Prompto down off her shoulders, laying him carefully on the ground. 

Cor managed to just about get by her, and as soon as he was in front of Noctis he began helping him hand him over. 

“I take it this lot need to get medical attention,” said Cor, pulling Gladio onto his shoulders and sighing a bit, just as Cindy picked up Prompto.

“Yeah,” said Noctis.

“What about you two, are you alright?”

“Just want to...sit down...” panted Iris, though some of the red was finally fading from her face. 

“You can sit once we’ve reached the top,” said Cor.

He didn’t ask any further about how Noctis was doing, which Noctis was grateful for, given the honest answer was ‘I’m probably going to die within the hour’. 

Ignis now safely positioned on his back, they all made their way up the rest of the path, stumbling and swaying but never quite falling over. Cor and Cindy, who weren’t quite as exhausted as Noctis and Iris, kept up a steady stream of conversation—though Noctis only ever caught snippets—too busy concentrating on not passing out.

When they finally broke onto the surface once more, Noctis immediately let Ignis down onto the floor, and was quite tempted to join him—but he didn’t want the others to see what was about to happen. Blinding pain was building within his muscles, his vision flickering dark then light. It would happen soon.

“We’ll take them over to Lestallum Hospital,” Cor was saying, but Noctis was only half-listening.

“Great,” he murmured, his words coming out slightly disjointed. “Just gonna find a place to sit down for a bit. In the shade.”

“Alright,” said Cor, and Noctis didn’t need to hear anymore.

There was a small copse of trees not far away, and he stumbled over to them, his limbs screeching and stretching as he did. 

As soon as he was out of the line of sight of the others, he let his feet fall out from under him and fell roughly to the ground, not caring as the pain shot through his knees and elbows. He rolled limply onto his back. The magic was building, building—there was a fire within—real fire, this time, burning through from the inside out—his bones, his flesh, his skin, and then—

He was in darkness again. 

“Noctis.”

He knew that voice—the same one that had guided him to Titan, in his dream. The same one he’d met in this darkness before.

“Mom?” he said, turning around to face her.

She looked the same as ever, though there was now a small frown on her face. 

“I know I screwed up,” he said immediately, not wanting to hear the words from her. “I know I should have told them.”

“Indeed,” she said quietly. “Though I fear your pain is not yet over. There will be consequences for this.”

“Right,” said Noctis. He didn’t dare guess at what those consequences might be. 

“You blame yourself deeply,” she said, watching him carefully. 

“If I had just told them the truth from the start none of this would have happened!” he cried, the reality of it finally catching up with him. “I have no idea what’s going to happen now—what if they all die because of me? Because I was too selfish to tell them? Because I was afraid they’d leave? Now they might have no choice.”

“Noctis,” his mother said, “calm yourself. You do not yet know what might happen.”

“But it _could._ ” 

“Yes,” she said. “But equally, it might have happened anyway, regardless of your input. I think you underestimate the dedication your friends show towards you. Mr Scientia in particular I doubt would have been swayed by your tale alone.”

Noctis gave a deep sigh. “He just can’t leave things well enough alone, can he?”

“That’s a rather harsh judgement.”

“It’s true! And it’s not just him—all of them. They refuse to let me go.”

She gave a sad smile, and there was a tired look in her eyes. “It can be difficult to let go of the ones we love. Especially if there seems to be no reason for it.”

“There’s plenty of reason—”

“I know. But they do not see. Your magic is strange to them, Noctis. They don’t understand how it pains you. It would be easier, perhaps, if other sources could verify your sickness, but I know they cannot.”

Noctis gave a deep sigh. “Yeah. No doctor’s ever dealt with anything like this before.”

“Telling them may help.”

Noctis closed his eyes, tears already beginning to prick the corners of his eyes. “I know,” he said, though his voice was trembling. “I think I’ve always known.”

“It is not surprising that you are finding this hard.”

“But it’s still my fault.”

She looked at him, her dark eyes like portals to that other world she’d come from. Like staring death straight in the face.

“You are not alone, Noctis. The Mother of All watches over you, guiding you from harm. If She believes you are still worthy of life, surely your friends will think the same?”

There was a kind of double meaning to her words, he was sure of it, but he couldn’t quite identify why he thought that. 

“It was Eos back there then?” he asked. “I thought so but I wasn’t sure...”

“She is closer to those of us departed from the world of the living. Her life is our life, Her thoughts our thoughts, Her words our words.”

Noctis’s heartbeat quickened.

“She’s controlling you?”

“No. Quite the opposite. There is no us. There is no Her. We are one and the same. All life derives from Her, and when that life dies it returns to Her. You are a part of Her. Your friends another part still. I speak to you from a position of being reunited with Her once more—so I confess my voice is not entirely my own.”

“I don’t remember any of this,” said Noctis, massaging his forehead. “When I died...”

“Your memories of that time are incomplete, yes?”

Noctis glanced back at her. “Yes.”

“It is impossible for someone still living to comprehend the state they exist in in the Beyond. You too had returned to Her—but you can no longer see it.”

“Right.”

“They will not hate you, Noctis.” Her voice carried an odd certainty to it. 

“You won’t _force_ them not to hate me, right?” he asked, unsure if he was speaking to her or Eos itself.

“We cannot force anything to occur,” she said with a distant smile. “You ought to know that by now.”

Noctis couldn’t help but smile back, thinking of the number of times he’d managed to screw up his own prophecy. “I guess you’re right.”

“Go now, Noctis. Your companions await.”

And for once he found himself fading not to darkness, but to light.

* * *

It was already dark out when he woke. 

The moon still shone down from above, but its light was dim and faded. True darkness was coming, and it was coming fast. He pushed himself upright and took in the space where he’d collapsed. The shadowy trees obscured most of the world from his vision, and the creaks and groans of the boughs drowned out most noise.

He got slowly to his feet. 

His body seemed to have mostly healed—he had all his limbs in the right place, and that was the important thing. 

He wandered towards the edge of the copse, wondering if they’d all just forgotten about him in the rush to get everyone to the hospital. But wait—were those voices? 

“He was right around here, according to Cor,” said a gruff male voice.

It didn’t take a genius to guess what they were talking about. 

He stepped out of the trees and a torch immediately illuminated him in its glow. 

“Who are you?” barked one of the strangers.

“Noctis,” he said tiredly. “You know, King of Lucis, etcetera.”

“Is that him?” the stranger asked his companion.

The other man stepped forward, making the glare of the torch on Noctis’s face still worse.

“Yeah, that’s him,” said the second man, and now he was standing a bit closer, Noctis could see who he actually was. 

It was Dave, the de-facto Head Hunter in Lucis. It’d been a long time since Noctis had last seen him. 

“Told you,” he said, watching Dave carefully. 

“Come with me,” said Dave, quickly taking control of the situation. “I’ve orders to take you straight to Lestallum once we found you. Come along then, don’t dawdle.”

Noctis hurried along after Dave, who was already heading for the road, leaving the other Hunters behind.

“Cor’s been worried sick about you,” said Dave, directing him to a broken-down old car. “Thought you’d died out here or something. I have to admit, I didn’t like your chances out here once night fell.”

“I didn’t realise how tired I was after getting out of the canyon,” said Noctis, clambering in the passenger side and fastening his seatbelt. “Once I sat down I pretty much passed out straight away. Sorry for worrying everyone.”

“Eh, it’s not me you’ve gotta apologise to,” said Dave, pressing down hard on the accelerator. “Cor, Cindy and that little girl are waiting for you in the Leville hotel in Lestallum. You know where that is?” 

“Sure do,” said Noctis.

The rest of the drive passed in relative silence, the only sound the hum of the engine, and the wind battering their car. The lights of Lestallum were as bright as ever, which was something, at least. That would give them some time once the darkness truly fell. 

Dave must have had the special lights that drove away daemons as well, since they didn’t run into any on the long drive into the city. 

Instead of thinking about combat, now all he had to think about was how to deliver the news to his friends that this was far from the second time he’d done all this. If they were even alive for him to tell them, that was. He’d been such a fool, keeping this from them... At least he’d found them. That was the thought he clung to as they drove into the city, the orange lights shining down on them as Dave parked the car in one of the spaces along the outlook.

Lestallum was as bustling as ever. That shouldn’t have been surprising—it was likely more people had moved there as the darkness crept in, but Noctis still found it strange that life in the city seemed the same when so much had changed since his last visit. 

The whole world had been upended, turned upside down and twisted, but for the people of Lestallum life went on. Did they even know that at this very second Bahamut was preparing to smite them all from the earth? Of course not. How could they?

People passed by him, going about their daily lives, oblivious to the danger that awaited them as he followed the streets to the Leville. And for a moment he thought he understood how Luna felt, when she’d been so reluctant to tell him of his fate in those letters they exchanged. It all seemed so normal. Was it really so bad to want these people to have that? 

Perhaps it was. After all, everyone had to grow up eventually.

The Leville rose into view above him, the hotel doors still open wide, in spite of the hour and the cold from outside. 

The warm air conditioning shook some of the cold from his bones as he stepped inside, and there, in the foyer, they were all waiting for him. 

In an eerie mirror of a few months ago, Cor, Cindy and Iris were sitting in the hotel lobby, anxiously awaiting his return, just as Ignis and Gladio had all the way back then. It was hard to believe that was only a few short months ago. Noctis felt as though years had passed since he last stepped inside, unknowing of why he’d travelled in time, unable to think why things had happened as they did. He knew better now though. And so did they.

“Noctis!” cried Cor, rising to his feet the moment he caught sight of him. “Where have you been? We thought you’d disappeared.”

“Easy, Cor,” said Noctis, raising his hands as Cor strode menacingly towards him. “I was just a bit more tired than I thought. The moment I sat down I passed out. When I woke up it was already dark out.”

“You’re lucky the daemons didn’t get you.”

“I know.”

Cor sighed deeply. “Come and sit down then. I expect you want to know about what happened to your friends.”

Noctis nodded, and Cor guided him over to their seats in the corner of the lobby. 

“How are they?” he asked once they were all nicely seated. 

None of the faces staring at him looked happy. That didn’t bode well.

“Well, they’re not gonna die...” said Cindy, sounding deeply uncomfortable.

“Gladdy’s going to be fine,” snapped Iris. “The doctor said so.”

“They believe Prompto and Gladio will make a full recovery, given a little time,” Cor explained. “Ignis on the other hand...he appeared to have additional damage.”

Noctis’s stomach contracted. The Ring. He hadn’t gotten there in time. Godsdammit. 

Cor kept speaking, but it was as though through an odd misty haze. “Whatever it was that hurt him, it seems to have gotten his eyes the worse. They’re worried about his sight when he wakes.”

Images flashed before Noctis’s eyes, of Ignis walking around with a cane, Gladio glowering at him across the train, Prompto catching Ignis as he fell, over and over again... 

He hadn’t managed to stop it this time. Sure, he’d delayed it. Stopped it happening with Leviathan. But now... What would they do if Ignis was blinded? He wouldn’t be able to fight, that much was obvious. It would take time to adjust to life without his vision—the first time he’d had ten years. Now they had barely any time at all. 

“Of course, they can’t say for sure until he wakes,” said Cor.

“Right,” he said hoarsely. 

“He still might be okay,” said Iris, clearly hoping to cheer him up. “And he’s still alive and everything so...”

“I know,” said Noctis. “I just...” 

He wanted to say ‘this is all my fault’ but he knew that wouldn’t exactly go down well they were clearly trying so hard to keep him from reacting badly. There was only one thing left to do. 

“I just need some time to think this over,” he said, rising from his seat. 

“They’re in the hospital just off the lane leading up to the powerplant,” said Cor. “Just in case you felt like visiting.”

“Yeah...yeah,” said Noctis, still feeling dazed. “I’ll do that. When are they likely to wake up?”

The three of them exchanged a glance.

“Doctors didn’t really seem to know, to be honest with you, Highness,” said Cindy with a shrug.

“I’ll go and see them tomorrow morning,” said Noctis. That was something at least. Something he could still do. 

“Noctis,” said Cor, as though he was reluctant to mention it. 

“What?”

“Your speech. It’s arranged for tomorrow.”

“Right.” He’d completely forgotten about that. “When for?”

“We’re undecided, but it would probably be best if you gave it while the sun was still up.”

“What time would that be?” With the darkness growing day by day it was hard to tell when the sun would rise—if it rose at all.

“Most likely around two o’clock in the afternoon.” 

“I’ll meet you there,” said Noctis, by now far too tired to argue. “I’m going to bed.”

“I think that would be a good idea for all of us,” said Cor.

“Aw, come on, it’s only eight,” said Iris, grumpily. 

“We’ve all had a pretty long day,” said Cindy. “I wouldn’t say no to a bit of shut-eye. See you tomorrow, Prince!”

“King,” said Cor, quietly, but Cindy ignored him as she bustled off with Iris.

Noctis began to head over to reception to book a room, but before he could get far, Cor grabbed him by the shoulder. “Here,” he said, pressing a keycard into Noctis’s hand.

“Cor, I can afford—”

“I know,” said Cor. “But you saved those boys down there today, Noctis. It’s the least I could do to repay the debt I owe you for that.”

Noctis sighed and took the key. Room 243. The same one they’d had before. How ironic. 

“Thanks Cor,” he said, “I appreciate it.”

“It’s nothing,” he said, stepping back. “Get a good night’s rest.”

“I’ll try.”

Try being the operative word there. But there was nothing to be done now.

He pressed the button in the lobby to call the lift down to his floor. No need to walk if he didn’t have to. 

Eventually the doors slid open to reveal an empty, golden interior, and Noctis stepped inside, pressing the button for the second floor. The lift doors trundled shut, and it began moving upwards, making his stomach lurch unpleasantly. Last time he was in this lift he almost passed out. Perhaps this time he’d be a bit more successful. 

Room 243 was much like he’d left it, albeit, much tidier. He had no luggage now, no things to call his own, all lost in the sea, or the sky, or somewhere on the ground. All he had was himself. And far too many thoughts racing around his head.

But perhaps it wasn’t the time for them now. 

As he lay back on the bed, it’s surface feeling entirely too soft after weeks of sleeping on little more than glorified mattresses, he found that all those troubling thoughts began to fade and slip away. He was so tired now. Perhaps it would be best to just rest for a while. That was all he wanted, after all. Just for a moment.

Just to rest.


End file.
